


Someday is Soon

by yellowcrayonwillow



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: October Prompt Challenge, Promptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 107,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowcrayonwillow/pseuds/yellowcrayonwillow
Summary: Logan and Veronica have been on different paths for eight and a half years. Our story begins six months before the movie, each living their lives until a call in the middle of the night and a threat from old bring them back in each other's lives.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 216
Kudos: 159
Collections: VM Fic Club Presents Promptober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

_Logan POV_

I have trouble sleeping sometimes. It’s not something new in my life, Insomnia has plagued me since I was a small child. Probably the only 9-year-old who found themselves staring at the ceiling night after night; running around with bags under my eyes for weeks on end until their body finally gave out and into sleep. Given that I lived in fear, is it any wonder that the monsters keeping me awake at night weren’t the ones under the bed but the one who might slam open the door at any moment and decide to teach me a lesson for my own good? So yeah, not a new thing, just another benefit of being Logan fucking Echolls. At least these days it's less the monsters of my past and more ghosts of those I’ve lost haunting me; reminding me. If I’m very lucky, it’s even just the normal thoughts from the day that you can never quite shut down, but to me, those nights when it’s not the ghosts, I count those nights as wins, proof that I can be somewhat normal. 

Tonight I am not lucky, tonight is a night with the ghosts. 

I look down at the woman sharing my bed. In sleep she seems peaceful, but I know that the waking hours tell a story of a woman tormented, by what I have no idea. Something is off about this picture. There's purple hair and not blond fanned across the pillow and the legs and arms longer than they should be. And, if I’m completely honest, that’s probably part of it. It's just that I thought we were building a life. I thought I loved her... I haven’t allowed myself to think those words in almost a decade, certainly not to say them. Yet I almost want to when this woman says them to me. 

Almost, but not quite. Tonight she said them, but they were slurred, a product of whatever drug she took before I got here, before I threw her shitty friends out of her house, and before I tucked her in like she was a child. I can’t stand to be next to her, but I’m too afraid to leave her side. Scared that she’ll stop breathing if I get up. All these years I’ve worked to fix myself, to move beyond my past, to be a better man, and this is my reward. I get to replay scenes of my happy childhood with the woman who supposedly loves me? Taking care of her tonight was far too reminiscent of nights with my mother after she had taken one too many pills, drank a few too many glasses of wine. I am well aware of the fucked upness of the child, bloody and beaten, having to help his mother to bed because she didn’t know how to deal with her life. Lord knows, I’ve spent enough on therapy to understand the depth of scars that has left on me. To be reliving it again is unbearable. I am over this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. How did this become my life?

When I met her eighteen months ago, I thought _here’s a woman I could see myself with_. It was a feeling I hadn’t let myself feel in so long. Women were interchangeable, there for a physical release, so I wasn’t alone, nothing more. After the last time I let someone in, I was not in a hurry to do it again. Until I met Carrie Bishop. Or maybe I should say that I re-met her. I knew her in high school. We ran in the same circles; I think I might have even slept with her once during an off period with Lilly, but those liaisons have long since blended together. If we slept together before we started dating, she never said, so maybe I was confusing her with some other brunette. 

I met her on a beach during a party. I was home on leave and hanging out with my best friend Dick. He thought the party would be good for me, at least get me laid since I had been stuck on a ship for six months. I didn’t really want to go, I’m not much for the social scene these days, at least not a social scene that includes trust fund babies and socialites who only care about my last name. Still, I went because I had nothing better to do and Dick was probably right. It had been too long since I had gotten laid. 

Instead, I found myself sitting and talking to a girl from high school, a girl who didn’t seem to want to be there anymore than I did. There was something about her. She was smart, funny, and pretty and her voice, when she sang, was soulful. We talked all night, just the two of us, about everything and nothing.

We didn’t touch upon the past and didn’t look to the future. It was comfortable. At the end of the night, I walked her to her car and kissed her once. 

Just a moment in time, nothing more would come of it. I knew I liked her because I didn’t even try to get her to sleep with me that night. Normally, that’s all I would have been doing, using my charm and looks to get the physical release that I wanted. Our lives were so different, though. Her singing career was taking off under the name of Bonnie DeVille. She was leaving in a few days to record her second album. I had just gotten home from deployment, and would be called up again in another six months or so. We exchanged numbers, typing them into each other’s phones, probably never to use them.

So I was more than surprised when she called me two days later and invited me out to lunch. After that, we just fell into a relationship. We had fun together, and it was easy, no expectations beyond being there for one another. The sex was good, not transcendent or earth shattering, but satisfying in a way it hadn’t been in a very long time. I never let myself dwell on the difference.

About six months after we started dating, Carrie told me she loved me. She said it simply, with no expectation of hearing it back. By this point in our relationship, we had shared some of our past and I think she knew it would take me time to say the words. I softly kissed her and held her close. It was all I could give her. She said it was enough.

Maybe it was, but somewhere along the way, it wasn’t anymore or maybe it never was and I was just too oblivious to see the pain I was causing her. I left on deployment shortly after. Carrie was distant, not handling my absence very well. I didn’t understand it. When I was home, we were together, but it's not like we spent 24/7 with each other. We were two independent people who enjoyed spending time together and having sex. She had her tours and promotional appearances. I was in the Navy and even when not out on the ship, my schedule was constantly changing. While we spent every night that we were both home sleeping at her house, there was no conversation about us moving in together. Maybe it wasn’t a fairy tale, but I thought it worked for us. She never said she wanted to move in together, and we never talked about a future with babies or a white picket fence. I doubt I could have given her that even if she brought it up, but I would have at least entertained the conversation. 

I wasn’t prepared for her reaction. I thought she would be sad, miss me, obviously, just like I was sad to be away from her and missed her. I didn’t expect her to go days without answering my emails or missing our Skype dates. When we did talk, it was like she wasn’t even herself. She started picking fights.

My bunkmates assured me it was normal. This was the first deployment that I was with someone, so I could only go by what I’d seen and what I was told. It just felt off. Something was cracking in Carrie, but I didn’t know what.

When I got home, everything seemed to be back to normal. She was herself again, and we spent my two weeks of leave, wrapped up in one another. She even rearranged her schedule to spend time with me. 

A part of me relished that she missed me so much while I was gone. I’m the type of person who needs to feel needed, and Carrie’s behavior over my deployment told me she needed me. Coming home to her and seeing how happy she was to have me there, it was the closest I came to saying those three little words. 

Soon enough, the real world intruded. I had to go back to work, and she had to work on her latest album. 

Carrie was always a free spirit, and she enjoyed drinking with her friends. I knew she had done drugs in the past, but other than smoking up a few times, she didn’t seem to be using drugs excessively. Which was good. I couldn’t afford to be around someone who was doing hardcore drugs, both because of my career and because I’m a recovering addict. It was hard enough for me to be around the drinking without being tempted, but I love my job and could never do anything that would put my career in jeopardy. Carrie seemed to understand that and always limited her partying when I was around, out of what I thought was respect for my needs. 

It wasn’t too long after I had come home from yet another deployment when I noticed that Carrie’s partying was more extreme than it had been. Sean Friedrich became her constant companion. Sean, a known drug dealer when we were in high school and one I know hadn’t changed his spots when he got older. Carrie tried to hide it from me, but it was no good. I would come over and one look at her dilated pupils would tell the truth. I spent too many years trying to hide the same signs to be fooled now. I could tell that she was high as a kite. 

So here I am, lying in bed next to my drug addict girlfriend, unable to sleep. I can see her spiraling and I don’t know how to help her. I’ve tried, but she keeps pushing me away. Tonight, it was bad. I came over expecting a quiet night with my girlfriend just like we planned. I had the hope we could talk and maybe I could get her to finally open up to me. 

Instead, what I got was a girlfriend out of her mind on god knows what, and Sean Friedrich with her. Something about their posture told me that yet again, I was being cheated on. Carrie and I fought, me hurling accusations; Her crying. Sean tried to get into between us, calm things down, but I was too angry. I would never hit a woman. However, Sean was a user and saw an opportunity to exploit to his advantage. Acting as if I would harm Carrie and playing the white knight even while taking advantage of her.

I was beyond stupid, punching him the way I did, pushing him out of the house with unnecessary roughness, but all I could see was him helping Carrie destroy herself. Here I was trying to save her and he was taking advantage of whatever it was destroying her inside, all for money and apparently a quick fuck. 

Carrie called me a savage, and it reminded me of another girl, in another life. Carrie screamed at me, hitting me in the chest, scratching my face with her nails as I tried to restrain her as gently as possible. While I’m strong these days, working out regularly, Carrie was wild and vicious, out of control. Whatever she had taken seemed to give her more strength than normal, and I’d prefer not to have to explain marks on me at work tomorrow. Finally, she stopped fighting and sank down to the ground, looking up at me with such utter sadness and despair. 

“Why do you even care?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Then she brought up the one thing we never speak about. “If I was Veronica, you would love me.”

I ignored the last part. Nothing good could come of that line of thought. “Carrie, I don’t want to see you ruin everything. Please let me help you,” I begged. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She didn’t speak, just curled up into a ball, sobbing silently. Finally, she pushed herself up and went to the bathroom. I just sat there, unsure what to do. 

When she came out, I could tell she had taken more of whatever she was on, coke, heroin, I didn’t even know anymore. I didn’t even care. Whatever it was, it was killing her. She tried to kiss me, but I couldn’t. I just put her to bed, planning to leave.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled. I smoothed her hair away from her face, sighing. I really care about this woman, but the reminder of another woman I couldn’t save was too much. I can stay tonight, holding her while she sleeps, but sleep isn’t going to come to me tonight. I know in the morning, I have to end this thing. I want to save Carrie, but I can’t let myself be dragged down with her and I definitely don’t want to be in another relationship where I’m being cheated on. _I do have some fucking dignity after all._

It's going to be hard to walk away though, when she so obviously needs someone to help her. I’m just not sure that I’m the right person anymore. All my attempts at getting her to talk, to go to rehab, to see a therapist, have just resulted in more and more fights. My own therapist has told me I’m in an abusive relationship, that I’m repeating patterns. I wish she wasn’t right, but tonight proves that she is. 

I get up from the bed and walk to the window, overlooking the ocean. I will the waves to calm me as they always have in the past, but it doesn’t seem like anything is going to help tonight. Pandora’s box has opened and I’m not even sure I want to close it at this point. Guilt because I’m going to walk away from this mess has me feeling masochistic. And there’s one thought, one person really, that never fails to make me hurt.

_Veronica Mars_. The name Carrie and I never speak. She was brought up just once in the past eighteen months and it didn’t end well then either. Carrie found the photo I keep of Veronica, the one I take on every flight. I couldn’t explain to her why a woman I hadn’t spoken to in almost nine years was my good luck charm. 

I thought it was a sign of the understanding between Carrie and I that she didn’t push me for an answer. She didn’t try to unravel the past, just letting us live in the present, pretending that ghosts weren’t surrounding us. 

Yet, it clearly wasn’t forgotten. I have no idea how long that particular issue has been festering in her mind. I wonder if it has anything to do with her downward spiral and guilt crashes over me again. I wanted to love Carrie. I truly did, but how can you love someone when you’ve already given your heart away? 

I’ve moved on, found a way to live my life, become a man that I think she would have been proud of. I can’t dwell on the might have been or should have been. Yet, deep down, I know I’m still holding onto her. While I may not actively think of it, I have hope that one day we’ll see each other again, that our paths will cross and I will have the chance to make it up to her. I will have the chance to be with her again. 

I need to stop, to sleep, to focus on anything other than the memories that threaten to overwhelm me now. If I don’t think about her, then I can continue living my life. I just can’t seem to find it in me tonight to keep it all at bay. 

Echoes of her telling me I was out of her life, thinking there might be hope for us yet with the way she looked at me in the cafeteria, finally finding out that she was never coming back. One more, in a long line of people to leave me. I can’t even begin to explain what that loss did to me. It took me years to crawl out of the pit I found myself in. Ironically, the same person who sent me down that spiral was also who saved me. 

I wanted to hate her, but I know I never could. Even when I told everyone that I did in junior year of high school, I didn’t. Looking back on how I acted back then, I can see how emotionally stunted I was. Sixteen, but still pulling the metaphorical pigtails of the girl I had a crush on. I was such a fucking idiot. What chance did we really have with both of us so broken by the trauma thrust upon us; we were barely treading water. There was no way to truly swim. If only, but no, I’m not going there. I’ve spent too many nights obsessing over what I could have done differently. I cannot change the past, I can only go forward. 

I lean my head against the glass, the coolness calming my thoughts. Behind me on the bed Carrie mumbles in her sleep, barely intelligible but I catch occasional words, doesn’t love, hit, pain. Everything is such a mess. I take deep calming breaths, trying to find some balance between the ghost of a girl long gone and a girl on her way to gone. 

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out wondering who would be calling me at this hour? I’ve long since learned that phone calls at 0200 hours are never good news so I steel myself before looking at the caller id. 

_Unknown Caller_ is flashed on the display. Normally I wouldn’t answer these things, knowing that it's either a telemarketer or a reporter. Apparently the tragedy that is my life never gets old. Yet, it's too late for either of those so I decide to take a chance. 

Stepping out of the room so I don’t disturb Carrie, I answer the phone.

“Hello?”

There’s nothing but silence on the other end. I pull the phone away from my ear to check if I actually answered it or if the person already hung up. The display shows that the call is connected. Thirty seconds have gone by since I answered.

“Hello?” I try again, thinking maybe it's a bad connection. Sometimes, even with all of our modern technology, there’s a delay or sound quality issues. Although usually this happens when I’m out on ship rather than sitting near a cell tower in Neptune California. 

I hear something faint like a glass being put down, but no voice comes on the line. I listen more intently trying to figure out who is on the other end. A chill runs down my back and I just know. I know it's her. Almost nine years of radio silence and I’m convinced that on the other end of this phone is Veronica Mars. It's almost like she heard her name said tonight and it whisked her into being again. If I had known it was that easy I would have talked about her long ago. 

“Veronica?” The hope that I normally push down rising to choke me. I’m going to feel really dumb if someone else actually answers me, but I’m positive it’s her. 

A small chuckle and then a voice comes on the line, male, deep, no one I recognize. “And she thought you wouldn’t even remember her.” The line disconnects. 

I try to call back, but the number is blocked. _What in the actual fuck was that?_

I stare at my phone, unsure what to do. The words said replay over and over in my head. I run through what little information I have about Veronica and her life now. While I respected her need to get away from me, I couldn’t completely let go and still kept tabs on her where I could.

That was definitely easier said than done since we have no real ties. It's not like I could call up her father and say “Hey Keith, how’s Veronica, where is she now? Is she happy?” The man hates me or at least that was always my impression. 

Ditto for Wallace. Mac was the only other one of her friends that I knew, but while we were friendly when I dated Parker, she hasn’t really spoken to me in years either. At least she’s said hi awkwardly when our paths crossed over the years, but I could never muster up the courage to ask her anything about Veronica. The one time I even came close, she gave me a look of such pity my throat immediately closed off. 

So I’ve been limited to my dear friend Google. Unfortunately, Veronica is keeping a much lower profile these days. There’s no social media accounts for me to stalk, no published articles on the intrepid teen sleuth solving a crime. In fact, I try not to look her up too often because inevitably Lilly and Aaron are brought up in the search and I have to spend hours digging through a rehashing of things best forgotten before I can find one snippet on her now. 

I know that she graduated from Stanford four years ago with honors, of course. I don’t know what her degree was in, but I’m guessing criminology based on what she was studying at Hearst. Then another graduation earlier this year from Columbia Law, again with honors cause my girl is wicked smart.

_My girl?_ Fuck, I need to shut down that line of thought right away. That leaves her in New York the last I knew. From the lack of current information, I guess I wasn’t the only thing she left behind when she left Neptune. She doesn’t seem to be involved in any way in the investigation game these days so why in the world am I getting strange calls in the middle of the night telling me that she didn’t think I would remember her?

As if I could ever forget her? I know because I have been trying to stop being in love with Veronica Mars for nine years. Nothing has fucking worked, absolutely nothing. I’ve just learned to live around it. 

I find myself pacing as my mind tries to think this through. No good will come of me panicking or jumping to conclusions as I’ve been wont to do in the past. I have to come at this from a logical view. Look at the evidence, assess the risk, determine the right course of action, decide, act. I’ve been trained to handle high tension situations, I can do this. Maybe it wasn’t even Veronica. No, that’s not right because the voice didn’t say anything until I said her name. So it has to be about her. Could it possibly have been a drunk dial, a jealous boyfriend?

I’m really trying here to keep the fear at bay, to focus on the facts, but my spidey sense is tingling. Veronica Mars is a magnet for trouble. It's amazing that she’s stayed out of it for this long. I’m not judging since I seem to be a similar magnet. It is what it is. 

I want to believe that it's nothing, but I can’t shake the mounting dread. Finally, I do the only thing I can think of. I scroll through my phone to find a number that I probably should have deleted years ago. Hell, it's probably not even the same. While I kept my number the same purposefully, possibly hoping that she would one day call, I wouldn’t put it past her to have changed hers. 

After hitting send on the phone, trying not to stare at the picture assigned to this contact. It's the same picture I carry with me on flights, the one that has kept me company more often than not on long, lonely nights when I thought I couldn’t possibly keep moving forward. Tonight, though, it's just one more reminder of everything I’ve lost and am losing again. 

The phone rings and rings before clicking over to a generic voicemail with her phone number, not even her name. All this and I still don’t even get to hear her voice. Disappointment floods my system. I don’t know for sure that this is still her phone number. I debate leaving a message because if it’s not her, I don’t want to hear from a stranger and if it is her number and it was just a jealous boyfriend checking up on an ex then I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear from me. 

Finally, I leave a short message, impersonal as possible, but I can hear the longing in my voice, the words I can’t bring myself to say.

“This is Logan Echolls calling for Veronica Mars. Please call me back if you get this.”

_Please, Veronica, please call me back. Even if it’s just to yell at me for calling you. Just call me back. Please be okay, please be safe, please end my purgatory._ And if I’m really honest with myself, _please come back to me._

I turn the phone over in my hand, unsure what else to do. I could go back and lay with Carrie, try to get some sleep even though I know it's definitely not happening. Yet, how can I do that when my mind is full of Veronica and I’ve decided to end things with Carrie? It's very telling that I don’t think of it as cheating on Carrie, but rather, that my whole relationship with Carrie is me cheating on Veronica. Even after all this time, being apart from her, I still feel like hers. I still expect to be called on the carpet for everyone I’ve slept with these past nine years. It's ridiculous, but then most fears are rooted in the ridiculous. 

I can’t shake this feeling of unease, so I open up my contacts list yet again. 

The phone rings again and again and one more time before a voice answers. 

“Why are you calling me Logan?” Keith Mars answers in a gruff, gravelly voice. 

I’m surprised he knows who it is. I keep my number unlisted so it shouldn’t be showing up on a caller id unless that person already had it. Why in the hell would Keith Mars have my number programmed into his phone? I would have thought he would have been thrilled to erase all memory of me. 

“I’m sorry for calling so late, Sir.” I take a deep breath and rush through the rest, afraid that he’ll hang up on me any minute. “I got a strange call this evening from an unknown caller. I thought it was Veronica, but when I said her name some guy answered and said, ‘And she thought you wouldn’t even remember her.’ Please -- I don’t need to talk to her, but I need to know she’s okay.”

As the silence grows, I look at my phone to be sure he hasn’t hung up on me. 

Finally, a heavy sigh comes across the line and my stomach twists at the sound. “Logan, how quickly can you get to New York?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan heads to New York to find out what's going on.

_Logan POV_

_How quickly can I get to New York?_ For Veronica? If she had let me, I would have been there already. Instead, I’m stuck relying on commercial air travel.

Turns out I can get here in approximately seven hours, since I’m able to call in for emergency leave and catch the 0700 flight to New York City out of San Diego, thankfully a direct flight. 

I could have made it sooner had I been able to fly _my_ jet. It's amazing how much faster a fighter jet can make the transcontinental flight. Alas, the Navy has these weird rules about not taking your jet out for a joy ride, especially to figure out what’s going on with an ex-girlfriend you haven’t spoken to in nine years. It’s _my_ name is on the side of the jet, but apparently they still think it belongs to them just because they shelled out $80M for it. But that $80M came out of tax dollars. I pay taxes. That should count for something. 

At least leave was granted to me. While Veronica is not technically my family, she’s been my emergency contact, next of kin and my beneficiary on file my entire career. Thankfully, it's never been needed, but it enabled me to convince my commander to let me take some leave. It probably also helps that I never take leave unless I absolutely have to. The military is pretty generous in its leave policy, giving us 30 days a year. That’s on top of the mandatory two weeks we get when returning from a deployment. Sincerely, love my job and I have little else in my life, even with Carrie, I’ve never had reason or desire to use my leave and just relied on taking enough that I don’t lose it when it pushes past the 90 day mark. 

Keith didn’t give any further details after I told him I could get the early flight, arriving around 1530 hours, his time. So I have no idea the situation that will greet me, hell I don’t even know where to go after my flight landed. I quickly threw some clothes in a bag, enough for a few days, left Carrie a note telling her I had to go out of town for a few days and would call her later. Then I just drove to the airport for my flight. I spent the entire flight running scenarios in my mind. 

Despite my 27 years, I’ve seen a lot: therefore, I have a lot of fodder to work with. The one thing that didn’t cross my mind was that Stosh fucking Piznarski, aka Piz, aka, the man who stole the love of my life from me, crushing my heart in the process and leaving me an empty shell of a man, was who would greet me at baggage claim. I was barely holding it together as it was, and seeing him, in the flesh, after all this time, making me wonder if he’s been with her all these years, I wonder if they’re married, living together... well let’s just say I can’t help the attitude rolling off of me. Veronica used to call me a psychotic jackass for a reason and this fucking twat never fails to bring it out of me, even if most of the time these days I have it under control. 

“Piss. Did Keith send you?” I use my best 09er drawl and let my voice enunciate the mispronunciation, knowing how much it irritated him. I don’t give a fuck. I absolutely loathe this guy. 

I freely admit that the problems Veronica and I had were strictly our own, that I caused probably 75% of them through my stupidity. I have had enough therapy to understand what I did wrong, to understand what she did wrong. I’m enlightened enough to take responsibility for my actions and not blame others. But this guy, he stalked her. He was always there with his Beiber hair before Beiber hair and the attitude of I’m such a nice, normal guy whose father didn’t beat him, who doesn’t have anger issues or keeps secrets because of deep-rooted trauma. He was always waiting to step into my role, just waiting for me to fuck up. Okay, so my hate is not rational, but he was fucking opportunistic. If not for him, I might have had a chance to make amends, to keep her in my life. Oh, and he touched her. 

He fucking touched her. Felt her soft skin, put his chapped lips on her soft petals. I may be with someone else, may have slept with my fair share of women over the years, but she still feels like mine. Like no one else should ever touch her. Even now, I want to punch him because he clearly knows what’s going on, is involved somehow and I’m just being brought in as an afterthought. I guarantee that if I hadn’t gotten that call and told Keith about it, I would know nothing. They would have kept me shut out. Hell, I don’t even know if they would tell me if she died so I could pay my last respects. 

I can feel the color leaching from my face, breaths growing shallow and hands trembling as my last thought hits me. Of all the scenarios I ran through on the plane, not one of them involved her being dead. Keith’s voice was too calm when we spoke. There’s no way that man would not be gutted if his only daughter was dead. I realize I’ve been clinging to that fact this entire time and I draw in a slow breath, feel my hands steady again, though not before Piz notices my reaction. 

I guess, unlike me, he’s able to forgive the sins of the past because he gives me a small sympathetic smile before replying in a calm voice “Yeah, he didn’t want to leave in case we hear something.”

“What is going on? Where is Veronica?” I have been dying this entire time, and I need to know what’s going on. 

“Veronica is missing. She went to a study group three days ago and never came home. I called the police and Keith when she didn’t come home that night. Keith flew out here immediately and has been working with the police ever since. The flat has become a veritable investigation headquarters. Keith made you a reservation at a hotel nearby.” Piz’s voice is steady, devoid of any emotion as he relays the information, as if he’s telling me what the weather is while leading me out to the parking lot. 

Flat? Really, dude is such a pretentious asshole. He’s probably never even left the country but thinks it makes him sound smarter to casually use British slang in everyday conversation. I know part of the reason my anger is ramping up again after working so hard to calm down is because I was right, they’re living together. A quick glance at his left ring finger shows no wedding ring and I have him pegged as the type to wear one just so he could show off that hot blonde he’s managed to hijack. 

“What has Keith found out? Are there any leads?” It's been a long time since I worked with Veronica on her cases, but all of her lessons on late night stakeouts and make-outs still stick. Everything about Veronica sticks. 

“Umm, Keith can tell you better than I could. I’m supposed to take you to the hotel so you can check in and then Keith said he’d meet with you later at the police station.” Piz shrugs, obviously uncomfortable. “I know the call you got last night was the only thing we’ve heard about her.”

“Are you kidding me? Did she just vanish into thin air? Where was she taken from?” I’m seriously getting pissed off with this guy. Doesn’t he even care that she’s missing? His tone sounds more like he thinks she’s off on some pleasure jaunt rather than potentially in mortal danger! 

“Sometimes, she just takes off. We haven’t ruled that out yet.” He says simply, avoiding my eyes while maneuvering through New York City traffic. I resolve to stay silent until we get to the hotel. I want to see Keith right this very minute, but I know I’m not wanted here, that my part is only because I got that call. I’m sure Keith has some voodoo magic that he’s going to perform on my phone to find where the call came from. Afterwards, I’m sure I’ll be told to just go home, that it’s not my problem. 

They can kiss my ass if they think that they can just hand me a red card and tell me to take off. I’m not just going to go home without a fight. I may not be a part of her life but she is a part of mine, an important part and I am not leaving until I know that she’s safe. Hell, I’m not leaving until Veronica herself, tells me to. I don’t care if it means getting yelled at again by her, as long as it means she is safe and sound. 

We arrive at the hotel and I try not to snort at what Keith obviously thinks of me. The hotel is run down, barely a step up from the Camelot of my youth. Thank god I won’t be taking any black lights to the room or I doubt I’d ever get any sleep. Speaking of which, I can feel the hours pulling on me, reminding me that I haven’t slept in over 24 hours and I haven’t eaten in almost that long. I still need to check in on Carrie. 

I don’t thank Piz for the ride while getting out of the car and he doesn’t feel the need to say anything more to me either. We both know where we stand. 

I check in to the hotel, throw my bag down on the bed in my room and run my hands through my hair. First things first, I need to call Keith. I don’t trust Piz at all and I get the feeling like he would rather I stay out of the whole thing. Maybe he is hiding something. If he did something to her, that beat down I gave him in college will seem like a summer rain. 

“Keith Mars.” Keith’s curt voice answers after only one ring. 

“Mr. Mars, Logan. What’s the plan? Where is she?” I cut myself off before my entire inner monologue of questions and concerns starts spilling out. I need to stay calm and collected. I’m a visitor in all of this, that has been made painfully clear, and I don’t want to wear out my lukewarm welcome before Veronica is home safe and sound. 

“Logan. I appreciate you coming all the way out here. I will meet you at the 13th precinct at 5:30 this evening. When you arrive, please ask for Detective Marshall. I will tell you what we know then. Now, I have to go.” His voice is formal and stiff, not yielding anything. I get it, he doesn’t like me, but I would expect some emotion in his voice. His goddamn daughter is missing, why is he not panicking?

Why won’t they tell me what’s going on? Piz wasn’t very forthcoming, although I chalked that up to the fact that he could tell that I was trying really hard not to punch him. He didn’t even seem like a guy whose girlfriend _(not his wife, please not his wife)_ is missing. None of this makes any sense. 

I consider calling Carrie, but I can’t wrap my mind around what I’ve walked into. I really can’t deal with her right now. Besides, that conversation isn’t one that I want to have on the phone. We’ve been together for eighteen months and I owe her more than a phone call saying, “Hey it’s over, I hope you get the help you need.” 

I push Carrie out of my mind and focus on what I know. A strange phone call related to my ex-girlfriend, who is apparently missing, yet no one seems too concerned. I guess she still feels the need to do ‘whatever’ when things get too much. Keith asked me to fly out here, but has been extremely tight-lipped on any details. 

The phrase not secure flashes through my mind. I’ve been in the military long enough to know that there are certain things that you don’t say unless the line is secure. But what in the hell is a law school graduate doing that would require a secure line? 

_Oh Veronica, what have you gotten yourself into this time?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith provides answers, but more questions remain.

_Keith POV_

My eyes are dry and burning and feel like they are about to fall out of my head. My fists rub at them tiredly, listening to the surrounding chatter. I need more coffee, but already feel like I’m going to climb out of my skin from the amount of caffeine I’ve already ingested. _When did I last sleep?_

Not since Tuesday before Stosh called to say Veronica never came home the night before. I thought my days of worrying over my daughter were ending. On a good path, she’s finishing law school, getting ready to take the bar, amazing job prospects on the horizon. She left Neptune and made a life. I am so damn proud of her. 

Now, it seems like we are being sucked back into the past. That became even more evident when Logan Echolls called me. I should have known that he wouldn’t stay away forever. I’m surprised that he’s managed to stay away from her all this time. I’ve kept tabs on him, so I know that he’s done well for himself, turned into a fine young man. Doesn’t mean I want him anywhere near my daughter. I still remember the tears she cried over the boy, the STD she got mysteriously, the sudden change in her personality and look. All of it led back to Logan Echolls. 

I don’t know the exact circumstances that made her finally leave him in the past, but I can’t say I was sorry to see him go. Every father knows that at some point, his child will find someone else, a person who will supplant him as number one in her life. When she was 19, I would have sworn it was going to be Logan Echolls, and it scared the shit out of me. 

They were both so young for the love they seemed to share. I didn’t want to believe that my daughter had found her other half at such a young age, especially not when he seemed to be nothing but a mess with anger issues to rival his father. 

Nope, really wasn’t sorry when she left and never looked back. No, no father would want that for his daughter. That boy is a bad luck magnet, so of course he’s mixed up in whatever this is. 

A small part of me is aware that I’m being unreasonable, that I never really gave him a chance. I know what he’s done for her; I know how he saved her on several occasions. I also know that he would have laid down his life for her. I know that, and I can’t fault him for that. 

Even now, after not having heard from her in nine years, he didn’t even hesitate to jump on a plane to come here. 

I could have just had him send his phone, but somehow I knew that there was no way that he was going to stay away when there was even the hint that Veronica was missing. Besides, given that the phone call came to him, there’s a better-than-average chance that he’s involved somehow. 

I just wish I had more to go on. Sitting here in a small room in the busy 13th precinct, I’m beyond tired and my only lead lies in the hands of a man I haven’t seen or spoken to in nine years. 

Logan arrives at 5:30 on the dot. Detective Marshall brings him back to the room I’m occupying and Logan stands in what I assume is ‘at ease’. He is the picture of calm, but I can see the nervous energy emanating from him. Probably to anyone who didn’t know him, they would just see a man with a straight back and intense brown eyes. But, I pride myself on being able to read people, and I can see that behind that military demeanor is a scared boy. 

“Mr. Mars, Sir.” His voice comes low and calm, again reflecting that military training. We’re a long way from the dudes of his youth. I have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t nine years ago and Logan has obviously grown up since then. He’s an officer and a pilot now, a damn good one if my research is anything to go by. He has not been in any trouble since he was in college, mostly stays out of the limelight although in the past year and a half he’s made more than one appearance in a tabloid because of his relationship with singer Bonnie DeVille, aka Carrie Bishop. 

“Logan. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope you will understand when I say that we need to confiscate your phone for some analysis. We will return it shortly.” What I convey with hard eyes and clipped tone is “Stay out of this and go back to California.” Not that I think he’ll listen, but I can hope. 

“Yes Sir.” The tone is crisp but he hands over his phone to the waiting Detective Marshall immediately. “Sir, what is going on? Where is Veronica?”

 _That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?_ I continue staring at the boy turned man in front of me, debating. He has no place in her life now. She pushed him out as a penalty for transgressions I’m not even aware of. Yet he’s here. I love my daughter and I trust her, but I also know that in her youth she was prone to holding those she loved to impossible standards. I imagine Logan was the victim of that as much as I had once been. I find myself softening a bit in the face of earnestness and genuine fear in his brown eyes and the set of his mouth. 

Instead of sending him on his way as I had planned, pushing him back to the life he had been living, I tell him what we know.

“Veronica went missing on Monday. She said she would be at a study group for her bar exam, which usually ended around ten. Sometimes it ran long, so Stosh thought nothing of it when she wasn’t home before he went to bed at eleven. When he woke up at seven, she wasn’t there and it didn’t look like she had come home. He tried calling her phone and texting but received no response. After waiting a few more hours, still trying to reach her until, at eleven, he called a few of the friends they had to see if anyone had heard from her, but no one had seen her since the study group broke up at 10:30 the night before. That’s when he called the police who informed him she had to be missing for at least 48 hours before they could do anything since she was a grown woman. Of course that’s bs, but a pretty standard answer for a police force that is up to their eyeballs in violent crimes.”

Detective Marshall rolls his eyes at the statement, but otherwise stays silent. 

“At noon, he called me to see if I had heard from her. Of course, I hadn’t and when I couldn’t get through to her and neither Wallace nor Mac had heard from her either, I hopped on a plane. What we have been able to figure out is that some time after she left the library where her study group met, she disappeared. Camera footage shows her walking the fifteen block path back to her apartment, but six blocks away she disappears.”

Logan curls his hands into fists, but otherwise remains stoic. He could be a statue for all the reaction he is showing. 

“We’ve been interviewing friends and colleagues, trying to find some clue as to who would have taken her. We’ve tried tracking her phone, but it's either off or destroyed. Leading up to her disappearance, there was nothing of any note going on that would lead us to believe that she would have left on her own.”

I sigh, feeling the weight of my continued failure and fear for my daughter very heavily at that moment. _Gone without a trace._

“Until you called, we had nothing. Still don’t really, but it's the best we have at this point.” I wave at Detective Marshall. “If we can find out where the call came from, maybe we can figure out what’s going on.”

Logan sits down in the chair across from me suddenly. Face dropping into his hands, I watch while tremors run through his tall frame and can hear the struggle of him trying to take deep breaths. 

“What can I do?” His intense gaze lifts to meet mine once he’s calmed himself and I watch his spine straighten and shoulder’s square in determination. 

I’ve given thought to this. I don’t want him here, but whoever took her called him. There’s a chance that they may call again. I relay that to him and he nods. I can tell that it's a struggle for him to be told to just sit there and wait, but that’s all any of us can do at this point. 

“Sir, Piz mentioned that sometimes she, I mean, Veronica, well she just takes off.” He stumbles through the words. I don’t fail to notice that Stosh’s name comes out with venom lacing it. I file that away for later. 

“She usually just books a hotel room. Sometimes, things just get a little too much and she needs to be alone. I’ve already run checks on all of her credit cards and checked the hotels.” I tell him. I’m aware of my daughter’s penchant for running away when things get to be too much. However, she hasn’t really done it in years. The times Stosh mentioned were all anniversaries of some sort or another. I know one of them was Lilly’s death, but the other one she wouldn’t tell me what it was, just that she needed some time alone. 

We sit in uncomfortable silence for a while, neither of us knowing what to say. I’m about to break and ask him how he’s been when his phone rings. Both of us stare at it in Detective Marshall’s hand.

“Unknown caller.” the detective hands it to Logan. “Keep them on the line for as long as you can. We’ll try to trace it.”

Logan nods his understanding and takes his phone. 

“Hello?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work wouldn't be possible without the help of my betas, Hisbeautifulgirl and bugaboo. Without their edits, feedback, and support, I'd still be editing chapter 1.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where in things aren't what they seem.

_Veronica POV_

“Hello?” A voice calls out, capturing my attention. 

“In here.” I yell back from where I’m sitting on the couch vegging. After the past few days that I’ve had, it's been good to be somewhere calm, somewhere I can regroup. I know I must go back to my life soon, but for now I need a short break. I can’t bear to face any of what is waiting for me. The sheer terror and panic that overtook me on Monday when I arrived at the apartment has finally subsided, but I’m still at a loss as to what to do next. 

A head peers around the corner, bronze hair artfully messy with electric blue eyes that twinkle with amusement.

“Usually, just yelling ‘in here’ does not, in fact, tell a person where ‘here’ is.” A chuckle escapes as the rest of the figure comes into the room. While I have no romantic feelings for this person, I’m not dead and can appreciate the fine figure he cuts when leaning against the side of the couch where I’m sitting. I try not to let myself think of another who used to lean almost exactly the same way. 

“And yet you found me.” The shadow of a frown crossing my face before I school my features into a smirk.

“Ms. Mars, this house only has six rooms, I was always eventually going to find you.”

“Well Mr. Helman, here I am. What can I do for you on this fine afternoon? Shouldn’t you still be at work?” I pause the movie I’ve been watching and turn to face him, sitting up fully and meeting his gaze. 

“I should be, but you’re here and I figured, hey, who knows how long she’s going to stay this time. I ought to get in my Pixie-chick fix while I can.” He laughs.

“Mike, thanks again for taking me in. I know I just showed up with no warning yet again.” My voice comes out a little thicker, sincerity clogging it.

“Anytime Veronica. I told you before, I’m always here for you.” His answer reminds me, again, of another man who said very similar words to me once upon a time. 

A soft sigh escapes, my heart hurting the way it always does when I think of that man. I have spent so much time trying to push him out of my thoughts, refusing to acknowledge the hold he still has on me, but now the specter of him was foremost in my mind. 

“Are you ready to tell me what made you run from your life this time?” Mike’s gentle voice, concern laced, pulls me from my rumination. His head tilts and eyes narrow while taking in my slumped shoulders and frown.

“Mike, I don’t know. Can’t we just watch some crappy movies and pretend like there’s nothing wrong? That we’re back in college enjoying some much needed downtime?” I’m being evasive, but I just don’t know if I can tell him. I don’t even want to think about what prompted me to come to see him without warning. It's not the first time I’ve done this, and it probably won’t be the last. We have shared too much already and there’s almost no one else these days I feel quite so safe opening up to. I just need a little time to sort it all out into words. 

_Flashback_

I met Mike Helman the first semester I was at Stanford. On my own for the first time, running from my past, I found myself depressed and lonely. I was trying to forge a new life, one separate from all the drama and trauma of Neptune. It wasn’t easy, and I found myself falling into old patterns all too often. I would hear a classmate talk about some issue they were having and would think _I can solve that_ , but then I would force myself to keep walking, to not get involved. I didn’t even realize how much I was struggling until Mike stopped me after our shared class one day.

“You look like you are trying to decide if you should break down and cry or maybe start punching something. I’ve found that it helps if you just go full ninja on some ice cream and maybe talk about it.” 

I stared at him. This stranger who thought he knew something about me, who dared to call attention to the pain I was in, who saw past the mask I was trying so hard to hold in place. I kept telling myself that I was fine, that I didn’t miss home, that I didn’t miss _him_. During the day, I thought I did an admirable job of proving that I was fine, moving through my classes, trying to make friends. Yet today, this one class, it had shown me that all I was holding at bay wasn’t that hidden. At least not to this stranger with electric blue eyes boring into my own.

Normally, I would have told him to fuck off, but there was something about his eyes that sucked me in. I think it was an understanding of all that I was trying to hide. Not empathy, but true understanding of the invisible scars that a hard life can leave on you. So I went against my nature.

“I like ice cream.” I told him, motioning for him to lead the way. He took a step forward, looking back to ensure I was following him.

“I’m Mike, by the way. Mike Helman.” He tossed back at me, all easy confidence. I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips.

“Veronica Mars.”

“Well Veronica Mars, lets get that ice cream and then you can tell me what a nice girl like you is doing in a dark class like that. And none of that it’s part of my curriculum bullshit. I already know that _Overview of Childhood Trauma_ is an elective course.” He continued walking the entire time, never fully looking at me, but seeing me all the same. 

He took me to an ice cream place right off of campus that was completely empty since it wasn’t really ice cream weather anymore. We ordered a couple of scoops each, opting for bowls rather than cones. As we sat down in a corner, we both dug in without saying a word. 

“So, are you ready to tell me?” He raised his eyebrow, finally giving me the full weight of his penetrating stare. 

“I don’t even know you.” I struggled to keep my voice flat. I mean seriously, what was I even doing here? I never open up to anyone. This was all because I was lonely and that class had gotten to me. I couldn’t really explain it, but for the first time in a long time, I felt the need to unburden myself and let go of some of this pain. To share the fears that swirled in my head and tormented me. Maybe it could have been anyone, but I don’t think anyone else would have seen through my mask. At least that’s what I believe now, after having been friends with Mike for nearly nine years. 

“No, you don’t.” He acknowledged waving his spoon at me. “But you’re going to tell me anyway because you want to. And I want to hear it. You and I both know that whatever you’re keeping inside is ripping you to pieces. I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself. Why don’t you tell me why you are in such a dark class?” I threw back at him, already feeling my walls strengthening back up. Who was this guy? What made him an expert on me when he just met me?

“Oh, that’s easy. I want to know how to fix my damage. I’m really not all that mysterious, I’m like most psych majors. I don’t want to pay for therapy, but I do want to understand why I am the way I am, maybe break some old patterns and learn new healthier ones. And I’d like to someday, help others who don’t hate therapy, resolve their own damage.” He stated it so openly, like there’s nothing to hide. “Clearly since I’m taking _Overview of Childhood Trauma_ , my damage relates to trauma from when I was a kid. And since I’m already a junior and much further along in my studies, I can freely say that I was abused as a kid. So hi again, I’m Mike and my dad used to beat me black and blue, but I’m getting better.”

I stared at him, amazed how he can so freely admit what is obviously a painful topic for him. It also explained why I find myself wanting to open up to him. I took this course not because I wanted to understand how to manage my own trauma. I took it because I wanted to understand _him_ , why _he_ did the things _he_ did, how I could have helped _him_. I wanted to torture myself.

I pointed at myself. “My best friend was murdered.” 

“Yeah, that’s not what was getting to you today.” His voice was thoughtful while he studied me. “Don’t get me wrong, that is traumatic, but today was something else.” 

He stared at me, assessing, waiting for me to open up. But he can wait a long time because this nut don’t crack. I’ve stared down bigger and badder men than him without flinching. 

“Okay, I can see this is going to take a lot of ice cream to get you to own up to what you’re feeling. I’m good with that. I find you fascinating and I’m willing to put in the time.” He finally smiled.

“I’m not a lab experiment.” I bristled and then another thought came to me. “And I’m not in the mood for dating.” 

“Oh sweetie, you really are just completely wrapped up in yourself, aren’t you? All these things you won’t say; making you blind to what’s right in front of you.” Mike laughed and I couldn’t help but smile, even though I didn’t find the situation funny. _I’m not self-involved, I’m really not_. “I’m gay, honey, so this is not a pickup. It's a mission of mercy. You looked like you could use a friend and well, I like you. I want to be your friend. No strings, no quid pro quo, just two people getting to know one another, helping each other muddle through this crazy thing we call life.”

My untrusting nature screamed at me to just get up and walk away. I was doing fine on my own; I don’t need anyone else. Those thoughts running through my head made me think of him again. A shudder ran along my spine, tears filling my eyes while my hands shook. The spoon I’m holding clattering to the tabletop. Water wets my face and I’m surprised to find that I’m crying. I’m not fine, but I want to be. I want to be able to move on from my past and not let it dictate my future. If that means taking a chance on this crazy guy in front of me, well I’ve done riskier things.

_End Flashback_

After watching _Neighbors_ , I turn to Mike. “I’m ready.”

“Well, it’s about fucking time, Pixie-chick.”

“Fuck you. I can keep evading if you’d prefer.”

“Come on Pixie, you know you want to tell Mike everything running through that pretty blonde head of yours. I’ll even start you off on an easy one.” He looks up to the ceiling like he’s thinking, even though we both know he’s already got a mental list of questions to ask me, guaranteed to pull the whole story out. The downside of a long-term platonic friendship with someone who knows you almost better than yourself. Of course, it probably helps that he is a psychologist, and cracking open people’s heads to get a look inside is his speciality. He’s damn good at it too. He is an expert at reading people, though he only uses his superpower for good. 

“Okay, easy -- and this better not be easy like ‘why do you blame Madison for your rape’.” I remind him of one of our past discussions where he played therapist to me.

“I promise, nothing like that.” He holds up his fingers in what is probably a scout’s honor symbol, though we both know he was never a boy scout. Might have slept with a few, but that’s neither here nor there. “Does anyone know you came to see me?”

I shake my head. I haven’t really told many people about Mike. I’ve mentioned him in passing to my dad as a Stanford friend. Wallace and Mac have met him once or twice, but neither of them understands the depth of our friendship. I guess I never wanted to make them feel like I had replaced them. I had such guilt when I left them after freshman year, and I’ve strived to maintain their friendship over the years. Telling them about Mike, or rather how close Mike and I were, just seemed like I was spitting in their faces, especially if they found out that Mike knows more than they do about me, than just about anyone except for _him_. 

“So I’m your dirty little secret.” He laughs. Mike knows how I like to compartmentalize. He says it's my way of managing my damage and while there’s a time and a place for everything, sometimes we need our coping mechanisms. 

“Don’t tell anyone or you’ll be just another reject.” I finish the song quote. It’s often like this between us. Mike is an audiophile, so music references and random song lyrics intermixed with normal conversation are pretty much a Tuesday for us. I guess I should be happy that my current sorta boyfriend is also into esoteric music because it has certainly helped me keep up with Mike in recent years. 

“Why?” He asks seriously, a look of concern on his face.

“I don’t know. I just wanted to get away and think. I didn’t want to have to explain anything to anyone.” I shrug. I just needed my friend.

“Okay, we’ll move on to the harder questions now. What made you run away this time?” Another one of my oh-so-wonderful coping mechanisms. When the going gets tough, this gal runs as far away as she can. Of course, at least now I have somewhere to run to and someone to talk through things with, so I generally can sort through everything and go back. Course it has taken us years to get to this point and there are still some things and/or people that I’ve run from in the past I’m still not ready to go back to. 

“I had my study group for the bar on Monday.” I pause and Mike just nods at me, silently encouraging me to go on. “I walked home like always, easy peasy. The group ran late, so I knew Piz would be asleep by the time I came in. I did my sweet girlfriend thing, being super quiet. There was an envelope on the table with my name on it.” 

I get up and find my bag where I left it by the other chair when I came in last night. I pull the envelope out. It's going to be easier to show rather than tell what was in that envelope. I hand it to Mike, who looks at me questioningly. I nod, letting him know I want him to look. 

He pulls out two photographs and a folded note. Setting aside the photographs, he unfolds the note while I bite my thumb. I know what it says; I've been running the words through my mind non-stop for the past day and a half. 

_Someday is soon._

Mike looks up at me sharply. But I just continued to bite on my thumb, hoping that my terror isn’t showing clearly on my face. His hands pick the photos back up, studying them. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He whispers to me. I nod, not trusting my voice. “Someday is soon. You know what it means?”

I feel the tears well up in my eyes. I’m terrified to say it out loud, as if saying it will make it come true, but I don’t know what else to do. 

“He’s going to die.” I say, trembling all over, trying to keep the torrent of my emotions at bay. I have to think about this situation with a clear head. Fear cannot be allowed to overrun things, not now. This is my mess and I have to fix it. 

Mike looks down at the photos again, taking in the sights centered on the subject’s head. It's a clear message. I’ve told Mike about that last day, the fight, his flippant answer to a death threat. _Yeah, someday._

“Maybe someone is fucking with you, a sick joke.” He tries to calm me. I shake my head. I wish that’s all this was, but I know who these photos are from. After all this time, I just thought he had moved on, that we had nothing left to worry about. 

“Veronica, you’re going to have to tell him. You can’t leave him out there without knowing there’s a threat against him.” It’s rare that he uses my real name and only when he’s very serious. 

“I know that. I do. I just don’t know how. I just show up after nine years and say- ‘Hi, sorry I broke your heart and ran away from you because I was afraid of how much I loved you, but you know bygones. Oh, and by the way, remember that death threat you got way back when, well, it turns out that the guy still wants to kill you and he’s put a huge target on your back. He’s going to think I’m completely insane and probably laugh at me before slamming the door in my face.”

“Well, I might not open with a reminder of breaking his heart, but everything else, yeah. He deserves to know.” Mike says firmly.

“I’m out of his life. He’s moved on, he seems happy. Those photos are recent.” I point out.

“How do you know?” His head tilts and eyes narrow slightly. He knows that I’ve done my damndest to keep from learning anything about _him_ over the years. 

“Because I saw them in a tabloid talking about his fairy tale relationship with Bonnie DeVille.” I can feel the jealousy that statement brings out, but I push it down. 

“He’s dating Bonnie DeVille?” Mike asks gleefully, temporarily forgetting the severity of the situation. 

“Okay down, fanboy. Her real name is Carrie Bishop, and we went to high school with her. I’m sure they hooked up through mutual friends. But yeah, he’s been dating her for the past year or so. Man, do you live under a rock or something?” I try to lighten the mood with jokes.

“Well, some of us are busy and don’t have time to stalk our exes.” He quips back. 

We both laugh, but then I look down at the photos again and my mood sours. 

“He probably doesn’t even remember me.” I mumble.

“Somehow I doubt that he’s forgotten you. You, my dear, are unforgettable. Besides, this is the guy you’ve said was not only the best fucking sex of your life but also your soulmate. Granted, you were five or six drinks deep at the time, but still not something you forget, especially when the words walking orgasm come out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

“Like I said, he’s moved on. I’m sure I don’t even rate on his radar these days. It’s probably Veronica who?” I’m throwing a pity party for myself now, dredging up old insecurities rather than facing the very real danger in front of us right now. 

“I don’t believe that, but since you want to feel sorry for yourself, I’m going to make us some drinks so we can process all of this properly.” Mike gets up to go to the little bar in the corner. I laugh at his cocktail antics. He may be constantly making me deal with my shit, but he’s also just a fun person to be around. With him, I don’t feel any pressure, I’m just me and he likes me just fine. 

Mike hands me a drink and starts telling me about his latest escapades. I lean back, enjoying the time with my friend, trying not to dwell on the photos or the note. There's things I’m going to have to do, but right now I need the space to clear my mind so I can really think and plan.

Everything has been so focused lately on what my future is going to be, and I’ve been silently panicking all this time. It's weird, I get a death threat concerning someone who means more to me than anyone or anything, and that’s the first time in months I feel even close to alive. The adrenaline pumping through my veins, knowing that I’m going to have to stop this. I feel more like ‘me’ than I have in years. 

Mike and I spend the rest of the night laughing and talking. He doesn’t push me to contact anyone, just lets me be in the present with him. Eventually, he helps me to the guest room, tucking me in with a soft kiss on my forehead. 

“Sleep tight Pixie-chick. Tomorrow, we’ll figure this out. I’m going to help you, no matter what. That’s what friends are for.” I hear him whisper before I let sleep consume me. 

When I wake up in the morning, I feel like a train has hit me. I stumble into the kitchen in search of some water and tylenol. The house is quiet, so I assume Mike is still asleep. I look around, taking in the tastefully decorated house and the view of the beach from the floor to wall ceilings. The beach has always calmed me. Even though it's not the sunny beaches of my childhood, I still feel that familiar calm taking me over, soothing my hangover. 

I put my glass down in the sink, ready to get a shower and start feeling like a human again when I notice it. It's an old habit, but I still carry a burner phone with me at all times. You never know when you might need to make an untraceable call. My phone is still sitting where I left it on the table last night to charge, but next to it, pulled out of its packaging, is the burner phone. I pick it up, tremors of betrayal running through me. I pull open the call log, already knowing what I’m going to find. 

One outgoing call to a number I still have memorized. A number I hadn’t called in almost nine years. 

Rage overtakes me and I storm back into Mike’s room, slamming the door into the wall as I stalk to his bed.

“What the fuck did you do?” I The words come out shrill and high, tight with fury that rushes through my blood, tinting my vision red. Behind that fear, fear so strong I want to drop to my knees and break down. I let the fury win. Mike, my soon to be ex-best friend, is now very suddenly quite awake and staring at me with wide eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica confronts Mike, has a decision to make.

_Veronica POV_

“What?” He slumps back against the pillow and his eyes droop, voice thick with sleep, confusion coloring his voice. 

I grit my teeth. “What the fuck did you do?” I ask again, every word carefully enunciated and dripping with venom.

Mike sits up in bed and rubs his face. He looks up at me and then to the burner phone in my hand. 

“I just wanted to see if he remembered you,” his hands hide his face but the shame is clear in his voice . “I was drunk.”

“What right did you have to interfere like that?” I growl at him.

“The right that says I’m your best friend and your pseudo-therapist.” His hands coming away from his face, chin jutted out, unshaken by my anger. I flop down on the foot of his bed, shaking my head. I’m so angry, but I still have to know.

“What did you say to him?” Anger drains away and my voice comes out a whisper. 

“I didn’t say anything.” He says. “At first anyway. I was drunk and after I dialed, it seemed like a stupid idea. He kept saying hello and then he said your name. I think I said something like at least you remember her.”

“Is that all?” My heart hammers against my ribcage and my mind whirls. He remembers my name. That doesn’t mean a thing. Unknown call in the middle of the night. No response. Given our history, it would be a fair guess that it could be me. Doesn’t mean a single thing. Doesn’t mean he still cares. 

“Yeah, I hung up. He tried to call back, but I sent it to voicemail.” Mike says. “Um, I think he called your phone too.”

My eyes fall closed, and a groan works its way from my throat. I’m not ready for this. I knew I was going to have to reach out to him, but I wanted to do it on my own terms, not because my asshole friend decided to play a game last night. 

“I don’t see what the big deal is. You said you were going to contact him. We agreed last night that you can’t not tell him about the threat.” He says reasonably.

“I know that. I just am not ready.” I tell him honestly.

“Pixie-chick, you disappeared three days ago and haven’t had contact with anyone. I just called your ex in the middle of the night. I think it's time that you return to your life and face the music. At the very least, call Piz and tell him where you are. You can’t afford to keep avoiding, this is life and death we’re dealing with. You don’t get to decide when you’re ready on this one. Other people are involved. ”

He’s right, I know that he’s right. I just don’t know what to do yet. I didn’t want to tell Logan about the threat. I had hoped that I could come up with some way of neutralizing it that would let me keep from contacting him. Now, thanks to Mike, he is probably panicking. 

As much as I want or try to convince myself to believe that Logan Echolls has moved on from me and that I don’t even show up on his radar, I know that I’m just lying to myself. Thinking that way keeps me from the thoughts I don’t want to think. It keeps me from running back to him to see if he does still love me. Cause, while I’d never say it out loud, I’m still in love with him.

I’ve tried everything I can think of to stop feeling this way, but nothing has worked. He wormed his way into me when we were just 17, and I’ve never been able to get him back out. Everything about him is too intense. The feelings he invokes in me, the way he cared about me in return. It was all too much for a shattered and broken 19-year-old. I always felt out of control when I was with him, and I’m someone who always needs to be in control. Everything with us always ended in a stalemate, neither one of us willing to compromise, especially me.

When I ran away nearly nine years ago, I did it because I could see how we were destroying each other. I wasn’t good for him and he wasn’t good for me. I had hoped that we could find a way to grow up together, but it just wasn’t meant to be. I was too afraid. Everything between us was too hard. I knew if I stayed that we’d just end up trying again and hurting each other in the vicious cycle we were in. Even worse, I’d have to see him with another woman again and I just didn’t have it in me to go through that anymore. It would break something in me I wouldn’t ever be able to fix. 

So, I decided to stay away. I thought it was the right decision at the time. I still do, at least, I think I do. Only now I’m going to have to talk to him. Mike’s right, I can’t keep him in the dark. It’s not fair to him, and it would only serve to make him angry at me if he finds out some other way. 

“You’re thinking very loudly over there. Either do it somewhere else, or at least get me some aspirin.” Mike nudges my arm to get my attention.

“You really think I have to go back?” I ask.

“I think you know you have to go back. You need to tell him. It's time. You can’t keep avoiding your real life forever. Maybe things won’t work for you two, but knowing is better than living this half-life you’ve got going right now.” He wraps an arm around me in a side hug. “Besides, you and I both know you can’t ignore this threat. It’s just not who you are.”

“I haven’t done this sort of thing in a very long time.” A sigh escapes but my stomach does a somersault. There’s an excitement I’m feeling at the idea of talking to Logan, solving a mystery. 

“It’ll be like riding a bike, or a very muscular hot man. You never quite forget.” He jokes. “And your him is a very hot man in those pictures.” 

“He was always hot. Physical attraction was never the problem.” I tell him with a small smile. No, Logan’s hotness, his prowess in the bedroom weren’t the issue. It was always my insecurities of my prowess in the bedroom, my inability to trust that something that seemed too good to be true really could be true. That, and his secret keeping and constant flirting with other girls. Yeah, we had a lot of problems. I don’t know that time would change anything. A thought occurs to me. “He’s with someone.”

“Yeah and so are you. You’re with the wrong person.” Mike reminds me.

“I like Piz. It’s easy with him.” I argue.

“Like, not love. That’s not fair to Piz, and it’s not fair to you.” 

He’s right, he’s almost always right. Piz is safe, but he’s not the love of my life. He’s not really anything actually, a convenience maybe. He allows me to have a piece of my past without the drama. We may live together, but those are separate bedrooms we’re keeping. We’re keeping things very slow, getting to know each other. If it weren’t for the high cost of real estate in New York and Wallace’s guilt trip, I wouldn’t even be living there. If it weren’t for the circumstances I find myself in, I don’t know that I would have agreed to date Piz. I get up and walk back into the kitchen, picking up my phone. I notice that there’s a new voicemail. I can feel my heart speeding up just from the thought his voice might be on there.

The message is formal, but I have known Logan since we were 12 years old. Even when I was too stubborn to admit it, I know him the way he knows me. I don’t think that ever goes away. I recognize that timber of his voice, I’ve heard it before. Messages he sent when we were still trying to make it work, I know this tone. I hear what he’s not saying. 

_“This is Logan Echolls calling for Veronica Mars. Please call me back if you get this.”_

Call me back finally Veronica, stop ignoring me Veronica, explain why some guy is calling me about you Veronica. 

Mike walks up behind me as I listen to the message again. 

“Call him. There’s no time like the present.” He says as he starts the coffee. “At the very least call Piz before I have a SWAT team breaking down my door looking for you.”

It’s not outside the realm of possibility. This is the first time I’ve taken off like this without even telling anyone I was going. I blame it on the fear that overtook me and the fact that I knew Piz would ask questions I wasn’t ready to answer. 

“Okay, I’ll call, but can I get some privacy?” I ask.

“Nope, I need coffee and if I let you wander off on your own, I know you’ll procrastinate.” He smiles softly at me, softening the blow. “Besides, I’m in desperate need of coffee.”

“Fine, but pour me one too.” He waves vaguely at me, telling me to get on with it while he pulls out the cream from the fridge. 

I don’t know why, but I picked up the burner phone and hit re-dial. That’s another lie I was telling myself. I was ready to call him, but on my phone that meant looking at the picture of him and I wasn’t ready for that yet. 

“Hello?”

It’s him. It’s really him. 

“Logan?” My voice sounds breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my betas, bugaboo and HisBeautifulGirl. Without you this story wouldn't be possible.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan resolves some things.

_Logan POV_

“Veronica? Veronica, where are you? Are you okay?” The words come too fast, tumbling over each other, but hearing her voice is like a shot through the heart. I’m desperate to hear her say she’s okay. I feel like I haven’t breathed since I got the call last night. She doesn’t sound like she’s in pain, but she’s always been good at masking. 

“I’m fine. I’m at a friend’s.” Her voice is soft, with a breathy quality I always associated with Veronica and my bedroom. _She’s at a friend’s? What the fuck Veronica, don’t you know we’re all worried about you?_ Keith holds out his hand for the phone. I manage to stop myself from glaring at the man, but just barely. Right now, Keith Mars is my only connection to her and I can’t lose that. 

“Um, your dad wants to talk to you.” The words come out in a sigh. I don’t want to give the phone up to Keith, I want to keep it, to listen to her sultry voice some more. 

“What? My dad? Why is my dad with you Logan?” Her voice is higher pitched and I can hear it even as I hand the phone to Keith instead of answering. 

“Veronica, where are you? We’ve been worried sick.” Keith practically shouts into the phone. 

I can’t hear her side of the conversation, but Keith seems to be calming down the longer they converse. I wish I could say the same. On the one hand, I’m beyond relieved that she’s okay, but on the other hand, I feel like a door is closing. My chance to see her, to be near her again, it’s all ending. Keith will dismiss me now that she’s found. They’re not going to want me around. I can’t be shut out. I still want to know who it was that called me last night though, and why Veronica would ever think I would forget her. How could she think that. Even if she wasn’t the love of my life, she’s still my oldest friend. I came across the country and I don’t want to leave without seeing her. I won’t. 

“Okay, honey. Yes, I’ll let him know. See you soon. Love you too, Veronica.” Keith finishes up the call and hands my phone back to me. He doesn’t say a word to me, but looks at Detective Marshall.

“John, I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done, pushing through the red tape. I’m afraid that it's a false alarm, though. Apparently, Veronica got it into her head that she needed some time away to think about some things, so she went to visit an old friend of hers in the Hamptons. Her friend is driving her back to the city so she should be back in a few hours.” A rueful smile spreads across Keith’s face. 

“Keith, that daughter of yours is going to be the death of you yet.” Detective Marshall laughs. “I’ll take care of the paperwork. I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Me too.” They shake hands and the Detective leaves us alone. Keith gathers up his gear, still silent. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m invisible when he suddenly looks up at me with this ‘what did you do now’ look. _I was just standing here. What could I have possibly done now?_

I wait for him to tell me to go home. I steel myself for the fight to stay and see for myself that she’s okay. When he speaks finally, I’m so shocked that I have to ask him to repeat himself. 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but what?” 

“Can you stay for another day or two?” Keith asks patiently. He’s not throwing me out. Does that mean that Veronica wants to see me? Is this a trick?

“Yeah, I can stay.” I’m finally able to give a comprehensible answer through my shock. Silently, I think I also should let my soon to be ex-girlfriend know, but that’s so far removed from my thoughts right now. I’ll deal with Carrie after. Right now, I’m too focused on Veronica. “When will she be back?”

“Her friend is driving her back. It’s about an hour and a half drive. Why don’t you go back to your hotel and get some rest. We can meet you tomorrow for breakfast.” It’s not a full dismissal but it is his way of telling me she should go home to her boyfriend first, not run to her ex. 

“Do you know who it was who called me?” I ask, still curious. I assume it’s this friend of hers that I know nothing about, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why.

Keith looks uncomfortable for a second, but then his mask slips back in place. “Apparently there was some drinking involved.”

 _A drunk dial?_ I can feel my face falling, but quickly smooth out my expression, letting the indifferent “jackass” look slide into place. No way am I going to let Keith Mars know how devastated I am to hear that her contacting me in any way was nothing but drunken antics. Although, clearly, I must have been a topic of discussion. I try not to get my hopes up too much. I noticed that he avoided the actual question and left out any information on the friend. 

I debate the merits of trying again, but it just doesn’t seem worth it. I guess if she actually wants to see me, I’ll find out soon enough. The Veronica I knew wasn’t one for playing the field, she was a serial monogamist like myself, she also was not a drinker, so it’s very odd to me that she's been holed up with some ‘friend’ for the past three days and drunk dialing me. Is she cheating on Piz? I realize that I don’t really know this woman anymore. 

“I will be at my hotel if you need anything,” The words come out coolly and I make my way to the door. No good can come of me hanging around at this point. He clearly is only keeping me here because Veronica asked him to. I try not to let it bother me that he still doesn’t like me.

As I’m walking out the door, his quiet voice calls out again, halting my movements. “Logan.”

Not turning around, my body stands at attention, waiting. I don’t want to face him when he tells me to stay away from her. Not again. 

“Yes?”

“Thank you. Even though she’s fine, I still appreciate that you dropped everything to come help her. It means a lot.” I glance back at him, my eyes widening in surprise. That was not what I was expecting.

I clear my throat around the emotions swirling in me. “She’s Veronica.” I say, like it explains everything … and I guess to this other man who loves her as much as I do, it does. His head jerks gruffly and I take my leave. 

My mind is still in turmoil when I get back to my hotel. I glance around the room; I guess I don’t really have to stay in this fleabag anymore, but I’m loath to be too far away from her when she returns. I sit down at the bed and draw in deep breaths methodically before letting them out, focusing on slowing my pounding heart and jumping nerves. _Everything is such a mess._

Yesterday I was in Neptune with my shitty girlfriend who is cheating on me with her drug dealer. I finally admitted that I was in an abusive relationship and was going to make a break for it. Then my ex-girlfriend, who I’m still in love with, has a friend drunk dial me to find out if I still remember her? I’m sitting in a disgusting hotel room, waiting to see said ex-girlfriend who I realize I don’t know anymore and have no idea what I’m going to say to her. What do you say to the girl that pushed you out of her life, but who you can’t seem to get over no matter what you do? _Hi_ seems too pedestrian, but somehow I don’t think she’s changed so much that if I open with _I love you, can we try again_ that she won’t go running away at light speed. My head drops to my hands as a groan forces its way from my tight throat over the lump that has taken residence there. Fingers pressing to my temples, I massage, hoping to alleviate the migraine I feel coming on. 

My life is a fucking soap opera. I thought I had done so well growing up, becoming my own man. I guess there are certain things you can never fully move past. 

When Veronica left nine years ago without even a goodbye, I spiraled. I can’t say that it was her fault, she was just the last in a long line of horrible things happening to me. I was already on the downward slide when we were together, but I held it off for her. Not entirely, because if I had been better, I wouldn’t have slept with Madison in Aspen. Instead, I was a knot of pain and I didn’t know what was right. I drank too much; I moved on to harder and harder drugs as each one stopped giving me the escape I needed, subconsciously or maybe not subconsciously trying to kill myself. During my darkest moments, I finally understood what drove my mother to the Coronado Bridge that day. When the pain in your life becomes unbearable, it's hard to see a way forward that isn’t further pain. It leaves you feeling trapped without options. I imagine that is what my mother felt when she decided to jump that day. Going back meant a life with Aaron, while going forward meant a cessation of everything. That insight has helped me find peace with her death, even if the question still remains whether she even considered me before she jumped. 

All my life has been pain with few calm oases, Veronica being one of those. The people I loved either left me or hurt me. My father, the late great Aaron Echolls, told me he loved me, that everything he did to me was because of his love for me. He was going to turn me into a fully functioning member of society. That was his job as a parent and if he had to do it by beating me black and blue, then so be it. My mother was a weak woman who couldn’t handle her own life and left me to his mercy. The so-called love of my life was a free spirit with a penchant for making bad decisions and living dangerously regardless of who she hurt in the process. She was so intent on getting the attention she so desperately craved, she didn’t care what form it took. It took me a long time to see the sad and lonely girl underneath my anger at her betrayal. It took even longer for me to come to terms with the fact that she never really loved me. She just liked the prestige that came with my name and her ability to control me through my larger than average cock. I was 14 when we started dating, pretty much anyone that was willing to fuck me was going to control me. I imagine I might have come to my senses sooner than I did, if I wasn’t already conditioned to associate pain with love. 

One night, about six months after Veronica left Neptune; left me, I went to the beach. I had been speedballing at a party and higher than I’d ever been. As the waves rolled in and out, I sat there, coarse sand beneath me, lamenting what my life had come to. I understood my mother’s decision to opt out, and it seemed like a superb idea. Completely fucked up on the mix of heroin and cocaine, I walked into the water. I wasn’t sure if hypothermia or drowning would be my end and in the moment I didn’t care just so long as it ended. Of course, since I’m here, it didn’t end. A wave roughed me up and threw me back out. The ocean that always calmed me turned against me and wouldn’t take me. A passerby called 911 when he saw my beat up body lying facedown on the sand. While lying there in the hospital, on a 72 hour hold for psychiatric evaluation, I thought about Veronica. The news of my death would devastate her and how, even if she didn’t love me anymore, or ever, it would cause her pain. I couldn’t do that to her, I couldn’t erase how I had hurt her in the past, but I would do my damndest to not be the cause of any future pain for Veronica Mars. I couldn’t be with her, but I didn’t have to let all the bad shit in my life define me either. I could be better so I could keep my internal promise to never hurt her again and that had to start with me not being a ‘poor little rich kid with a death wish’. 

I decided not to be a victim. I got help, went and committed to rehab, therapy, the whole nine yards. I found the Navy and flying, I built something. Yet it means nothing if I still can’t be with the woman I love. It still leaves a gaping hole inside me. 

On the hard bed in a dirty motel room I let the raw pain take over for a few minutes. Then, I draw in a hard breath and pull out my phone. I wanted to do this in person, but can’t keep putting it off. I want to have my options free in case there is something still there with Veronica. I was going to end it anyway.

Carrie answers after only two rings.

“Where are you, punk ass bitch?” Her terms of endearment need some work. This one, her favorite, is definitely a swing and a miss. I listen closely to her voice to see if I can tell if she’s high. She sounds sober, but addicts are really good at hiding that sort of thing. Lord knows she’s been hiding it from me for a long time.

“I’m in New York. A friend needed my help.” I answer slowly, carefully, unsure how to say this.

“When are you coming home? I miss you.” Her voice turns to a whine. I shake my head, I wasn’t going to be sweet-talked into continuing this toxic relationship.

“I don’t know when I’m coming back to Neptune yet. Things are still up in the air here right now. But Carrie, I need to end this.” Though my voice is not cruel, the words come quick and firm, like ripping a bandaid off. 

“The issue with your friend?” A heavy sigh slips through my lips, I’m not up to playing games and she’s being purposefully obtuse. 

“No, Carrie. This - whatever this is between us now. Our so-called relationship. It’s over. We both know it’s been over between us for a long time. It’s time to admit and stop hurting each other. I don’t want to see you anymore. I’m done. I’m going to finish up here and then when I get back to Neptune, I’ll drop off your key, pick up my stuff. I would still like to help you, but I can’t be with you, not as your boyfriend, not anymore.” I tell her honestly. The tears come across the line and it hurts because I do care about her. I just know that I need this for my own sanity. Even if Veronica wasn’t in the picture, this is the right thing to do. I can’t keep getting into these abusive relationships. I’m not strong enough to keep surviving this kind of thing. I want love that is unconditional, that is loyal and honest. I deserve that kind of love. It’s taken me years to understand and believe that but it's true, I’m not a bad person and I deserve to be loved how I love, wholly and openly. 

“Logan, please, I’ll get help. Please don’t leave me, baby. I love you.” Carrie sobs but it doesn’t sound genuine. Again, I’m reminded of another woman I cared about, the one time Aaron called her out on her drinking and pill use. The way she cried when he threatened to leave her. It wasn’t about love, it was about the loss of comfort and security she had in her life even if it was messed up. The promises made in order to make sure that didn’t go away. 

“I’m sorry Carrie. I can’t. I hope you do get help, for your sake, but I can’t be your savior and punching bag anymore.”

On a dime, her whole demeanor changes and the sobbing stops. Her voice turns hard and cutting, dripping with venom. 

“Oh poor little Logan. Big touch man can’t take a few hits from his smaller girlfriend. You are such a pussy. I guess it makes sense why your father always felt like he needed to toughen you up.” She sneers at me through the phone line.

“Carrie, good bye.” I hang up the phone, feeling lighter than I have in months. There was no point in addressing her comments, it made no difference. It just reinforced my belief that the relationship had run its course. I really did hope that she was able to get the help she needed. When she wasn’t high or drowning in depression, she really could be a great person. 

I get up to splash some cold water on my face. As I come back to bed, my phone is lighting up and vibrating. I really hope it isn’t Carrie calling back to drag this whole thing out. A quick glance reveals that thankfully, it isn’t. Course the number flashing on my screen and the accompanying picture send shivers through me. _Veronica._

“Hello.” I try for nonchalance even though my heart was beating a mile a minute. 

“Hi. So, what’s new with you?” A frown crosses my lips, her voice sounds like it's shaking slightly. 

“Um, that seems like more of an in-person discussion given it's been nine years since we talked really.” I banter back, falling into my old rhythms with her. It's always like this with us, the back-and-forth quips, hiding what we really want to say. I’m only going to allow it for so long though, because it’s long since pastime we really talked. 

“About those nine years, Logan, I’m really…” She starts, but I cut her off. I don’t want an apology. I just want to see her. Well, what I truly want is to hold her, touch her. I won’t let myself even begin to entertain any other thoughts of what I want with her. I know it’s a long shot, and false hope has never been my friend.

“Bygones. So I’m here and I assume that you are back in the city. Can I take you to dinner?” I ask, heart in my throat. 

“Why don’t you meet me at my friend's place? I have something I need to tell you.” The words stammer out and now I know she’s nervous. 

“Is this friend Piz?” I ask, letting her know that I know about the floppy-haired asshole who's still in her life after all these years. 

“No. I’ll text you the address. We can order some food and talk.” Now she sounds slightly angry with me. Guess Piz is still a sore subject. 

“Sure, when?” Resigned to the fact that I’m not getting any answers over the phone. Veronica hates surprises, but she loves being the cause of them. 

“Half hour? His place isn’t too far from the hotel Dad said you were staying.” She answers, whispering to someone in the background. “Um, do you still like Thai?”

“Is the sky blue? Yes, I like Thai. Still allergic to shellfish, too.” I answer, puzzled. I realize that it’s been nine years and we have changed in that time, but certain things are the same. Like the fact that Thai is my favorite food. There’s so much we don’t know about each other now.

“We’ll order some here for when you arrive.” She says, still distracted by whatever is going on in the background. 

“Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.” I can’t help the excitement that creeps into my voice at that thought. I’m going to see Veronica Mars. If it wouldn’t ruin all my non-existent street cred, I’d be dancing right now, but I tamp it down. I have less luck calming the live wire feeling running across my skin or the way my stomach is doing somersaults at the idea of seeing her again, finally. I wonder if she’s still as beautiful as she was all those years ago. I hang up the phone and wait for the text. It comes almost immediately. I have thirty minutes, but the place is only a five-minute cab ride. I grab my dopp kit and take a very quick shower since I’ve been up for over 24 hours and have been traveling all day. 

Washed, groomed, and wearing a tight dark blue henley over a pair of dark jeans that I know showcase my ass nicely, I head downstairs to hail a cab. I have no idea what to expect, but I’m fairly bursting out of my skin with anticipation. 

The building the cab pulls up to is a three story brick townhouse, not at all what I expected. I walk up the steps, trying not to fidget too much in my nervousness. Fingers pressing the doorbell, I hear the sound reverberate in the structure and wait before footsteps and voices can be heard. Muffled and muted through the heavy door. 

The door opens and my eyes widen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is this guy?

_Veronica POV_

Seeing Logan standing there, in the flesh, after all these years, words suddenly are devoid of my mind. I literally can’t speak, reduced to just staring at this god-like specimen of the boy I once knew. My mouth is dry, moisture pooling elsewhere as I take in his broad shoulders, defined arms and taut abs, all showcased in a navy henley. I have no idea how long I just stand there staring at him, but finally Mike leans around me and puts out a hand to Logan. 

“Hi, I’m Mike.” 

“Logan.” _Oh yes, you are._

I’m still watching Logan, and I can see the slight tightening around his eyes as he reaches out his hand to shake Mike’s. I’m stuck in between the two, still frozen. Mike releases Logan’s hand and places his against the small of my back, gently nudging me. I look back at him in panic, but he prods me again, a little more forcefully this time.

Logan’s intelligent, chocolate brown eyes catalogue the interchange, a slight frown on his face, still waiting for me to say something I realize.

Finally, I find my voice, but it’s high pitched and squeaky. “Hi.” I try to clear my throat before speaking again. “Um, come in?” Dammit, that came out like a question when I most definitely, desperately want him to come in. I’m just having a hard time processing the fact that he’s here, in front of me, I could even touch him if I wanted to. He looks better than he does in my dreams, leaner, more muscular, but not in a meathead kind of way. He’s beautiful and I want to touch him. I want to feel those powerful arms around me, making me feel safe and sexy like no one else ever has. 

I move out of the doorway, Mike still staying right behind me, his hand on my lower back trying to impart strength to me. I’m glad I listened to him when he insisted that he be here for the meeting of the star-crossed fated lovers, as he put it. I note the tension in his body, the way he holds his back straight and shoulders squared while he steps into the house. Mike closes the door behind him and I feel overwhelmed suddenly. Seeing Logan brings everything back, how everything with him is too much, too much love, too much pain. I mentally shake my head and try to pull it together. 

I usher Logan into the living room and motion for him to sit on the couch. I don’t trust my voice to speak just yet. I sit on the loveseat across from him, still staring, vaguely aware of Mike sitting next to me and taking my hand in his as reassurance. 

“Thank you for coming tonight. The food should be here soon.” It’s too formal, but I don’t know how to start this conversation. Logan doesn’t seem happy to see me. Not once has he smiled since I opened the door. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s not this cool stranger in front of me.

“Okay.” Logan’s voice comes out flat, his gaze avoiding mine. I try to figure out what he’s staring at so intently when I realize he’s looking at my hand entwined with Mike’s. 

I give Mike’s hand a squeeze, letting him know I am okay now, before letting go and placing my hand in my lap. 

“Veronica, what is going on?” Logan says, mouth tight, still not meeting my eyes. 

“Wouldn’t you rather eat first, catch up?” I struggle to keep my voice low, soothing even, trying to lighten the tension filling the room. Faced with him, I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell him about the threat to his life. The thought of anything happening to him is enough to make me hyperventilate. I can’t lose him even if he’s not mine. 

He’s not playing along though. “I want to know what’s going on. You disappear, no one knows where you are. Your father thinks someone kidnapped you and has the NYPD out searching for you; he asked me to fly out here because I might be a lead to you. Only to find out you’re fine, just at a friend’s house?” The way he says friend is like he’s chewing on broken glass. “Then you invite me here to tell me something, but you’re not talking.” I glance at Mike.

“No, don’t look at him. Tell me what the fuck is going on!” He is beyond mad now, calm demeanor gone and 19-year-old Logan is in front of me complete with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Man, don’t talk to her like that.” Mike speaks up, but I put a hand on his arm to quiet him, as Logan glares with open hostility.

“It’s probably easier to show you.” Getting up to grab the envelope from the side table, I hand it to him, careful not to touch him. I sit back down next to Mike, letting him take my hand again. I try to keep my face blank as Logan opens the envelope.

I always knew, after everything I did to him, that he might hate me. It's one of the reasons I didn’t want to tell him about the threat in the first place. Logan is someone who loves with his whole heart, but he also hates the same. While I could take the hate, knowing it comes from the same passionate place inside of him as his once love, I couldn’t handle the thought of him being indifferent now. I don’t want to see him look at me like he can’t wait to get away from me. I might still believe in all the reasons I left all those years ago, but I have never lied to myself about how I felt about him. I still love him and seeing him now, I can tell that my chance with Logan is long gone. The pain of my heart cracking open in my chest makes it difficult to breathe. My teeth sink into the corner of my lip in an effort to stop any tears from pooling in my eyes. I wish I hadn’t suggested dinner. All I want is to run upstairs to the room I call mine and bury my head in a pillow, screaming and crying at the pain threatening to overwhelm me.  


_Logan POV_

When the door opened and she was finally in front of me after nine long years, I think I broke. I wanted to pull her to me and hold her and never let go. In front of me was my dream coming true, and I could only stand there staring at her. 

She was even more beautiful than I remembered. Her eyes were the same shade as the waters at Knip Beach in Curacao, the kind of blue that you think must result from colored lenses, but were just her. Everything about her was achingly familiar and yet brand new at the same time. I took in every inch of her petite perfection, noting changes since we last saw each other. Absolute perfection. 

Despite the photo I carry with me, I always wondered if I had overstated in mind the beauty and fucking sexiness of her body. Now it seems I didn’t do it justice. I try not to squirm as I feel my pants tighten. She’s really here, in front of me. I could touch her. I want to touch her. 

Before I can reach for her a tall dark-haired man comes up behind her, standing close in a way that speaks volumes of familiarity. I’m secure enough in my masculinity to recognize that he’s a stunning specimen. He introduces himself to me and while my body automatically responds to the offered hand, my mind is thinking “Asshole, get away from _my_ girl.” 

Veronica hasn’t said a word. Meanwhile, this fucking bastard is putting his hands all over her. I don’t know who this Mike guy is to her, but I really don’t like him. Finally, she invites me in, looking like a panicked rabbit, as she ushers me into a living room, motioning to a beige leather couch for me to sit on. I hold my breath, hoping she will sit next to me, but she moves to sit in the matching loveseat across from me. Her fucking ‘friend’ sits next to her and takes her hand. 

Despair settles onto my shoulders like a lead robe, sinking into my bones and down into my soul. I just wanted a chance, I wanted to see if there’s anything still there. I didn’t want to have to see her with another man, one she obviously cares about. There’s nothing left for me here. Everything about the way they interact speaks of a level of intimacy I’ve never seen her have with anyone other than me. How the fuck was she able to move on from me so completely? 

“Thank you for coming tonight. The food should be here soon.” The tone is so formal and stilted. It’s like she’s reading from a script. Vaguely, I wonder if this is something covered under Emily Post, how to interact with the ex-boyfriend that you’ve avoided for nine years while holding the hand of a new ‘friend’. I can barely force myself to answer whatever it is she just said through the waves of sadness weighing me down. 

“Okay.” I manage to get out, proud of myself that my voice doesn’t shake. I don’t care about food. I don’t want to stay watching them together any longer than I have to. I feel like my heart is breaking all over again. All my hope washed away by the sight of the happy couple. 

I just want to get out there, but I’m owed an explanation as to why I was brought here. Why let me see her now when she never would before? Was she trying to kill me by rubbing it in my face that she is happy without me? I saw a meme once that said “what doesn’t kill you gives you a set of unhealthy coping mechanisms and a dark sense of humor.” That describes me perfectly. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, anger specifically, engaged. 

“Veronica, what is going on?” My control begins to slip. I’m torn up inside, a wounded animal poised to go for the kill. If I don’t get out of here soon, I just know that I’m going to do my best to ensure that she never lets me within 100 feet of her again. She fends my question off with some bullshit about eating, dangling the hope of catching up with her like she truly cares about me. _Why would I believe that now when she hasn’t cared to call me or check on me in nine fucking years?_

My mouth starts spilling words and I feel myself becoming angrier and angrier. The fury feels better than the complete despair lurking underneath, threatening to swallow me whole. I see her glance at her ‘friend” and I lose it. 

“No, don’t look at him. Tell me what the fuck is going on.” I know I need to calm down, but douchebag tells me to simmer down or some shit and I glare at the two of them. Fuck this bullshit. Is this who she is now, someone who gets her fucking kicks by torturing the men who love her? Where the fuck does Piz fit into all of this? Has she tortured him all she can for the past nine years and now needs some fresh blood?

Veronica hands me an envelope, retreating quickly. I fight the urge to touch her fingers where they rest for a second only centimeters from my own. Even though I know that I have no chance, I can’t help but want to have one last anything with her. 

My focus goes to the envelope clutched in my hand. I draw a deep breath, feeling the anger still pulsing in my veins. _No, I’m not noticing that she’s returned to Mike ,and he’s holding her delicate hand again. Absolutely not._

I slide a couple of photos out of the envelope along with a folded piece of paper. A glance at the photo has my eyes widening in shock. They’re pictures of me. The first one is obviously a picture of me leaving the gym after a workout, another of me grabbing a cup of coffee from the new Starbucks in Neptune. That’s not what has me in a state of shock, though. No, that would be the very noticeable gun-sights drawn around my head. I try to keep my hands from trembling while reading the typed note. 

“Someday is soon.” I read the note out loud. Three little words, but they hold so much meaning. My mind flashes back to the last time I saw Veronica. The cafeteria, the fight, the guy I beat and my flip answer to his death threat. _“Yeah, someday.”_

I look up at Veronica, silently asking for answers, but I’m distracted by the shine of tears in her eyes. I’m baffled. Why does she look like she’s about to cry? Everything in me is screaming to wrap her up in my arms and comfort her, but she’s holding onto Mike like he’s her lifeline. Why would she be so upset over this? It's not her mess, it's mine. I caused this like I caused so many other fucked up things in our history. 

“I don’t understand.” I get the death threat, but I don’t understand why she has these or why there are tears swimming in those beautiful blue eyes of hers. 

The doorbell rings, halting any further conversation as all three of us stare at one another. It’s not my fucking house, so I’m definitely not answering that. Veronica lets go of douchebag’s hand and he gets up, throwing her a look that clearly shows his reluctance to leave her alone with me. What the fuck has she told this guy about me? Veronica has had a range of reactions towards me, but she’s never been afraid of me. 

I take advantage of our time alone, moving to sit next to her on the loveseat. She closes her eyes as if in pain when my arm touches hers. I breathe in deeply, her scent still reminiscent of marshmallows and promises. I fight the urge to take her hand and instead speak softly. “Tell me. Please, Veronica. Where did you get these?”

Her eyes are still closed and I can see her taking deep breaths through her nose. I hear Mike at the front door paying the delivery guy. Time is running out. There’s no doubt in my mind that as soon as he comes back in, I will be pushed off to the side. 

Veronica opens her eyes and stares into mine. I can feel that pull, undefinable, between us and I find myself leaning forward, my eyes darting down to her pink lips before slipping back up to her eyes. At this moment, I don’t care about an answer, I just want to kiss her. It’s been nine years since I had that privilege and I know it's not mine now, but looking into her eyes, being this close to her, I am filled with overwhelming need. 

Before I can move though, she starts to speak rapidly in a fearful tone. 

“I found the envelope at my apartment.”

“Someone was in your apartment?” My anger rises and my sight tinges red at the thought of some psychotic asshole entering her private domain. My hands curl into fists at my side. 

Veronica shakes her head, “I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to ask any questions. I made sure Piz was okay and then I grabbed the photos and ran.” 

I’m having trouble understanding this. There’s too much information to process in these three short sentences. Running is fairly normal, but running when faced with a mystery is not like the Veronica I remember. The Veronica of nine years ago would have asked questions first and then been worried about her safely. Of course, this also tells me that she’s living with Piz. Which begs the question, who is Mike and how does he fit into all of this? I can feel every bit of fatigue from my continued lack of sleep as I try to play catch up. 

Mike chooses now to walk back in announcing the arrival and set up of the food in the dining room. Veronica stands to join Mike and glances at me pleadingly. 

“Logan, please stay. I want to talk.” She had me at ‘stay’. I never could deny her anything even if it meant ripping my own heart out and serving it up to her on a silver platter. I was sure that watching her with Mike was going to be a special kind of torture after having been so close to her again. 

I give the barest nod and get up to follow them into the dining room. 

No one speaks while food is passed around and everyone begins to eat. I’m surprised to realize how hungry I am. I would have thought with the turmoil that my emotions are in, sitting here with the lovebirds, there would be no way I could swallow a bite. It seems that Veronica ordered all of my favorites, por pia, kow pad sap-parod, and crispy chicken basil. That stupid hope rears its head again before I remember that this is Veronica Mars. What she remembers is not indicative of how she feels. She just has a mind like a steel trap for details. I can’t read more into it than a passing kind gesture. 

Watching her eat is the only thing that can distract me from my own meal. 

I watch as she puts a bite of chicken in her mouth, eyes closing briefly while she lets the flavors explode across her tongue, a small moan escaping her lips. The delicate line of her throat as she swallows. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, catching Mike staring at me, before looking down at my own plate again. 

“V, watching you eat is practically pornographic. It’s like you’re having an orgasm with each bite.” Mike remarks casually and my head whips up to glare at him. He looks at me knowingly and winks. _Who the fuck does this guy think he is? He acts like we’re sharing some private joke but we are not friends._

Veronica continues eating, not looking up at either of us. “Something this good deserves proper acknowledgement. And if you think that’s what an orgasm looks like, you’re not doing it right.”

Mike just laughs at the comment. Something isn’t quite right here, but I’m too busy trying to not embarrass myself by thinking of what she does look and sound like when she has an orgasm to really give it much thought. 

Veronica picks up a piece of por pia, swirling it in the chili pineapple sauce before placing it in her mouth, sucking lightly before taking a bite. She moans quietly again looking at me as she swallows. My mouth is dry and the fork holding my next bite of food falls to my plate as heat engulfs my entire body. Fucking minx is doing it on purpose. She remembers everything so she has to know how fucking sexy I’ve always found her eating habits. 

She gives me a half-smile and I adjust myself, trying to gain some room in jeans that are way too tight now. 

Knowing I won’t be able to continue eating, but needing to distract myself from the direction my thoughts have turned, I remind Veronica that she wanted to talk. 

“So how have you been?” She twirls some noodles on her fork, eyes intent on the task. 

“You said you wanted to talk. I’m sure you didn’t just invite me here to ask me how I’ve been. Why don’t you tell me what you know about those pictures.” She hasn’t wanted to know how I’ve been for the past nine years, I don’t really see her making small talk now. 

“I know what you know. I got those pictures and the note. The message is pretty obvious.” She looks up at me but quickly looks away like she can’t stand to see me. 

“Okay. Why now? Why not when I was still at Hearst?” The shock is wearing off now that I’ve had time to process and I’m not really too worried, at least not about myself. If that connected guy wanted to take me out, he’d have to go through the US Navy these days to make it happen. I’m more concerned about the fact that he was in Veronica’s apartment and that he clearly is sending her a message. A message that freaked her out enough that she felt it was a good idea to take off for a while. A thought crosses my mind, “Were you even going to tell me about the threat?” 

She glances at Mike who nods. I really hate the silent communication between these two. That used to be our thing, having whole conversations without actually speaking a word, just letting our eyes say everything our mouths couldn’t. The hits just keep coming tonight. 

“Pixie-chick, just tell him. He has a right to know.” Mike takes her hand and squeezes it gently. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. 

“Like I said, I came home Monday night and found that envelope on the table. I don’t know if Piz pulled it from the mailbox and left it there for me or if someone was in my apartment. I really didn’t care either way and wasn’t going to stick around to find out. I left, taking a roundabout way to the Hampton Jitney, using only cash, and came to Mike’s place. That’s where I’ve been hiding out the past few days trying to figure out how to handle all of this. I wasn’t going to call you. I didn’t want to mess up your life or cause problems with your girlfriend. I just wanted to make it go away.” Her teeth worry her bottom lip and I want to brush my fingertip over that abused lip. I feel a warmth flooding my insides at the thought that she knows anything about my life right now. _Does that mean that I’m not completely dead to her? Is there hope?_

“What changed?” There has to be more to all of this. She wasn’t going to tell me, just go off and fix everything and leave me none the wiser. 

“Ummm, that’s my fault.” Mike looks sheepish as he takes the blame for me finding out anything. “I was drunk and Pixie-chick here claimed that you wouldn’t even remember her so there was no point in her telling you about it. I used her burner phone to call you.”

Veronica glares at him before turning back to me. “I just didn’t want to screw up your life Logan. It's my fault that you’re in this mess.”

I shake my head, opening my mouth to remind her that I was the one who didn’t listen to her when she told me that guy was connected-connected, but she cuts me off. “No, if I hadn’t been so bent on vengeance for that stupid video, you wouldn’t have gotten involved, wouldn’t have felt it necessary to defend my honor. I just couldn’t let it go and now all my actions are coming back to haunt us.” Her voice cracks with emotion and tears well up in her eyes. 

“Okay, I still don’t get all of this. You got the pictures and ran to this guy. Who the fuck are you anyways?” What little control I had left breaks and jealousy pours out of me while I pin Mike with a venomous stare. 

Veronica answers quietly, like she’s telling a secret. “Mike is my best friend. We went to Stanford together.” _What the fuck happened to Wallace?_ From the guilty look on her face, I realize I had asked that question in my outside voice. 

“Wallace is still my friend, one of my closest, but Mike and I…” _What, you’re lovers as well as friends, ex-boyfriend? Fuck, and once again where does Piz fit into all this, where do I fit into this?_

“What Veronica is trying to say is that we’ve been friends a long time and we’ve shared things with each other that Wallace wouldn’t understand because he has no frame of reference for it. While he can be supportive, it's not the same as actually understanding. And to answer the other question that you’re not asking, no, we’re not sleeping together and we never have. She’s really not my type.” Mike turns to Veronica with a smirk, “He’s as self-involved as you were. Can I make him a pet project too?”

Veronica laughs, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that they’re not together, and have never been together. Before the elation over this revelation can set in I remember that she’s living with Piz. I still don’t have a chance. 

I decide to ignore the whole self-involved and pet project discussion, letting it go for now in favor of figuring out what happens next with these photos. While, I’m not that concerned for myself, I am worried that Veronica is in danger because of something stupid I did a long time ago. Why else would this guy go to all the trouble to tell her that I was going to die? If he had been paying attention to anything the past nine years, he should have known that she pushed me out of her life. Why make it a point to warn her and thereby warn me, when he could have just made good on the threat. This seemed messy somehow, unless he is planning on doing something to her after I was out of the picture. My heart started to race at the thought of what could possibly happen to Veronica, all my worst fears playing out on a loop in my head. 

My breathing grows shallow and I struggle to tamp down the panic rising from deep in my belly, my vision starting to blur. I am vaguely aware of the concern on Veronica’s face and Mike coming around the table to kneel next to me.

“Logan, try breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. Deep breaths, come on.” Mike’s words are calm. Clearly he’s been through this before. I dimly follow his advice and focus on Veronica’s face, reassuring myself that she’s right there and safe. I will do anything I have to do to keep her safe. My breathing evens out and my heart rate slows down.

“What is his name?” My voice comes out steady and I continue to gaze at Veronica, who still looks at me wide-eyed with concern. I try to smile at her to let her know I’m okay, but it feels forced. 

“Gorya Sorokin.” She answers my question, not needing clarification of who he is. 

“So where can we find him?” She smiles at my use of the word we. She may have wanted to keep me out of this before, but I’m not walking away from this until I know she’s safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to my betas, HBG and Bugaboo. This story would not be possible without you.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never what you think.

_Veronica POV_

“Where can we find him?” I thought for sure that Logan would just get up and leave, insisting he could handle it on his own, so it's gratifying to hear him turn us into partners again. It may not be the partnership I was hoping for, but it means a little more time with him while we figure this whole thing out. From his mini-panic attack (being subject to more than a few of those myself over the years) I can tell that his mind made the same logical conclusions that I did. There was no point to sending me these photos and warning me unless there was a deeper message. If Gorya Sorokin wanted to kill Logan, he didn’t need to tell me. In fact, that would seem juvenile and sloppy since it would leave behind an apparent motive and suspect for Logan’s death. 

Also, if he found me and knows anything, then he should have known that Logan and I aren’t in each other’s lives any longer. He would have had no reason to think I would care. He didn’t know who Logan was all those years ago, though asking just about anyone in the cafeteria that day would have yielded a short bio of Logan Echolls, son of a homicidal, pedophile movie star.

No, the only reason to tell me, was to let me know that I’m next. It wasn’t a warning about Logan; it’s a threat towards me. He is toying with me. 

I left behind sleuthing when I left Neptune behind, and while my mind has been trying to figure out a way to fix all of this, I have to admit my skills are rusty. I haven’t even started to find Gorya or figure out what he’s been up to all this time. That’s step number one for any good investigator. 

I got so distracted by the fear overwhelming me I clearly wasn’t thinking straight. It took Logan asking the question to even get me considering how I used to handle these things. 

Logan is still looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to do that voodoo that I used to do so well. His faith in my abilities, even after all this time, is disconcerting. As if I didn’t feel enough pressure already, now I feel like I have to live up to some unrealistic expectations. 

That thought gives me pause. All my pseudo-therapy with Mike has turned me into the kind of person who actually considered my emotions when they happen rather than just shoving them all into a box never to be opened except maybe in the shower on occasion. So now, I’m wondering if that’s how I made Logan feel all those years ago? The only difference is that I still don’t believe my expectations of him were too high. He has clearly proven me right that he could rise above his past and do something amazing with his life rather than living off his trust fund. He is the kind of scary smart that couldn’t be wasted because the world would be a lesser place if it was. Now, though, I wonder if I couldn’t have gone about it in a better way, more sensitive to his trauma-induced damage instead of letting come across like he was a disappointment to me. 

“I don’t really do that anymore.” His eyes narrow and he looks at me like he’s trying to figure something out. 

“You don’t, but you can.” His voice is firm, brooking no argument. I can’t help the smile from tugging at my lips, loving him all the more for the way he knows me. 

“I can. I will. I just have to figure out how to get a hold of some resources that will make this easier.” 

“I take it Google won’t cut it?” Mike is joking, but honestly, it’s worth a shot. I wasn’t exactly forthcoming with my dad when I saw him earlier, just letting him think it was something to do with Piz. So asking to use his PI search software was out of the question. It was better to let him draw his own conclusions. I let him give me the whole “Stosh is a nice guy” speech, nodding along like I always do. 

Piz is a nice guy, but he’s not the guy for me. That’s the only conclusion I came to during my time hiding at Mike’s. Stosh Piznarski is nice, but he will never be the kind of love that I would describe as epic. I have spent so long trying to live up to other people’s expectations of me, what I should want, who I should want to date, that I’ve lost who I truly am. The only time I’ve really felt like myself has been when I’m thinking about Logan. Even with him in danger, I am happier than I have been in years, tempered, of course, by the utterly demoralizing realization that I can’t have him the way I want. 

“It’s worth a shot” I pull myself back from my silent contemplation, aware of the silence that has stretched while both Mike and Logan waited for me to work through the problem. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I grab my laptop from where I left it in the kitchen earlier. 

I type in Gorya Sorokin and wait for the search results. Oh shit, the very first hit is an article about the Sorokin family and an FBI bust several years ago that saw several members killed and many more doing 30 to life for a human trafficking ring. 

I turn the laptop towards Logan, watching as his eyes skim the article, quickly coming to the same conclusion I did.

“It can’t be him.” His jaw tightens as he considers this bit of information. 

Gorya Sorokin is currently in MCC San Diego serving a life sentence for drug and human trafficking charges and murder in the first degree. According to the article, Sorokin has no chance for parole despite numerous appeals since the initial trial. Highly unlikely that he would orchestrate the death of some guy who beat him and embarrassed him nine years ago. I’m sure he has other things to occupy his time like ensuring he doesn’t get bottom bunk with Fisty McRapes-a-lot. 

“It’s not him.” My body goes numb and voice breaks with the full ramifications of this information. I have no idea where to go from here. The threat, the wording of the note all pointed to Gorya. If it's not him, then who the fuck is trying to hurt Logan, and why did they send that specific warning to me? 

“There is a connection.” My words trail off, unsure how to explain the connection popping into the forefront of my mind. The pictures were like the ones that chased my mother off all those years ago. Clarence Weidman knew Gorya, knew about my run-in with the castle. But I handled that. Before I left Neptune, I returned the hard drive to Jake Kane. I made him promise to not let anything happen to Logan after I outlined Gorya’s threat. 

Why would Jake Kane or Clarence Weidman be coming after us after all this time? If it even is them. Unfortunately, that little stunt in the cafeteria was witnessed by about sixty people, any one of whom could have heard the interchange between Logan and Gorya. The only thing tying this back to the Kanes are the photos. While I may despise Jake Kane, he has always had a fondness for Logan, thinking of him as a second son in a way. Or a son-in-law, my treacherous mind supplies. That was why he agreed to make sure nothing would happen to him when I told him of the threat. It wasn’t for me it was for Logan that Jake did it. 

“Pixie-chick, while I respect the process, would you mind cluing in the rest of us on what has you looking like you are eating broken glass?” Mike pokes me in the arm, snapping my attention back to the two men staring intently at me. 

“I’d say it’s more her ‘I’d rather be strapped to ant hill’ look.” I glance into those beautiful brown eyes and then see that classic Logan smirk with a slight raising of eyebrows. _Is he just trying to make me smile, or is this some sort of one-upmanship with Mike?_ Logan seems to have relaxed since Mike mentioned that we aren’t anything more than friends, but I can still smell the testosterone flavoring the air. 

“Both of you are wrong. It’s my ‘I’d rather be spelunking’ look.” I send Logan a wink, letting him know that I remember too. “When my mom left, there were photos like these of me in her safe deposit box. The head of Jake Kane’s security, Clarence Weidman, sent them to her as a threat so she wouldn’t screw up the Kane’s alibi. It’s possible Jake Kane might be involved. Or maybe Weidman is acting alone?” I shrug my shoulders, not really sure why either of them would want Logan or I harmed now.

“So, what do we do next?” Mike has heard stories of my activities as a PI, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t do that anymore. All he’s known are the stories and his excitement is palpable at being part of what he’s deemed the Scooby gang. “Oooh, can we get a whiteboard? I always wanted to map out a crime on a whiteboard.” At both Logan’s and my incredulous looks, he gives us a confused look. “What, is that not a thing?”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes at his antics. Even Logan cracks a half-smile though I can tell it pains him to acknowledge that he finds Mike amusing in the least bit. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a pained expression. I know that look, it’s the look he used to get when he knew he had to tell me something that I wouldn’t like. The muscles in my body coil in anticipation of what new secret he’ll reveal. Last time I saw that face, he was telling me about some supposedly random girl he had hooked up with over winter break. That didn’t end well for us, so my defensive posture is understandable. 

“It’s not Jake or CW.” His tone is firm.

“How can you be so sure, Logan?” I can’t believe he still believes in the goodness of the Kanes. 

“I’m not sure. I just don’t think it is.” His entire body goes taut like he’s expecting a blow any second. “I get what you’re saying about the similarities to things they’ve done in the past. I do. But Jake left the country years ago to be with Duncan and his daughter. No one has seen him stateside in years.”

“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t be him or Weidman.” He stubbornly shakes his head at me, refusing to even consider it. 

“Look, I saw them. I wasn’t looking for them, but I saw them a few years ago.” He explodes with energy, pushing back from the table and pacing. “I was in Australia on a surf trip and I saw Duncan.”

I sit there dazed, a mix of emotions flooding through me. Logan keeps his eyes fixed on me as he continues to pace, watching intently. 

“How was he?” My voice comes out in a squeak. Logan pauses in his pacing and rubs a hand through his hair. 

“Happy. They were happy. I didn’t spend a lot of time with them. Just enough to know that they aren’t targeting us.” 

“I still think-” A frustrated growl emerges from his throat cutting me off. 

“Veronica, they are done with us. We serve no purpose for them anymore. We mean nothing to them.” His anger surprises me, but I quickly attribute it to the loss of his best friend as well as the loss of Lilly. His chocolate brown eyes implore me to let it go, but I’m not ready to let go of this potential lead just yet. 

“So whiteboard?” Mike tries to alleviate the tension between Logan and I, and we both turn to glare at him briefly before returning to stare at one another. “Okay, no whiteboard, geez. Then what do we do? Do we just wait until someone makes good on the threat to Logan?”

Any answer is interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Logan and I are still locked in a battle of wills, neither of us giving an inch. 

“Don’t kill or fuck each other while I’m gone.” Mike quips as he goes to answer the door. 

His voice drifts into the dining room, laden with sarcasm. “Oh, it’s you. So glad you could join us.”

_Logan POV_

Why does she always make it hard for me to protect her? If I didn’t know any better, I would think she enjoys being put into positions to have all her illusions shattered. I didn’t want to be as harsh as I was about the connection to the Kanes, but I couldn’t help the anger that rose in me. She had a point. There was a valid connection there with the pictures of her mom and the pictures of me. 

I certainly wasn’t mad that she was willing to consider her precious Duncan as a possible suspect. Something that she never did in the past. No, all that suspicion was leveled solely at me. Duncan Kane was the golden boy, the perfect prince. He would never stoop to the levels of Logan Echolls. Nevermind the fact that he cheated on her, lied to her, betrayed her, abandoned her, and oh yeah, there was the matter of him sleeping with her while he thought he was her brother and she was DRUGGED! 

_Calm the fuck down, Echolls, water under the bridge._ I give myself a pep talk. 

No, it's just that I know for a fact that they don’t care about us. Duncan made that perfectly clear to me when I ran into him. It wasn’t even hatred, just pure indifference. Veronica and I belonged to another time, and he wanted nothing to do with that. He wasn’t mean when he told me he and his family wanted nothing to do with us or Neptune ever again; he was just stating a fact. 

I’ll admit it hurt being told by my supposed ex-friend that I meant nothing, that all those years of friendship were simply a matter of convenience. The Kane siblings were only friends with me because of my name and who my parents were. I was a means to an end to gain access to the glamorous Hollywood lifestyle. Veronica was just a way to pay back their parents for being shitty parents. We were playthings that they outgrew. Neither of us had anything to offer the Kanes anymore, and so they just wrote us off as if we never existed. 

I wish she would just let this go. I’m trying to spare her the pain of knowing that she meant nothing to the girl she thought was her best friend or the boy who was supposed to be her first love. To them she was a toy to play with until it broke or they didn’t like it anymore. Besides, I doubt she would believe me. 

She’s still as stubborn as she ever was. Standing toe to toe with me despite the nearly twelve inches in height difference, blue eyes sparking with fire. But I won't back down on this, it will just be a waste of our time and I don’t want to waste time when someone could be coming after her. 

The tension between us doesn’t go unnoticed, and I’m already fighting to keep from pulling her into my arms, threading my fingers into her soft hair and pressing my lips down to hers. Never let it be said that Logan Echolls was completely sane. I can’t help it, fighting with Veronica still turns me on. She’s always beautiful, but when she’s angry like this, she’s positively radiant and I want to have all that passion turned on me. I was reaching breaking point when the doorbell rang, interrupting our silent battle momentarily.

“Don’t kill or fuck each other while I’m gone.” Mike quips as he goes to answer the door. Man must be prophetic or just superb at reading body language because I could definitely see myself giving in and fucking her, consequences be damned. 

My focus is still on Veronica as he leads in the latest guest to our little party. I glance out of the corner of my eye and see Piz standing there. It’s like a baseball bat to the gut, the physical reminder of why this fight with Veronica won’t be ending with us sweaty and satisfied. 

Taking a step back from Veronica, I shove my hands in my pockets, resisting the urge to stake a claim. I may be a lot of things, but I won’t interfere with her relationship with another man, even if I did just want to punch him in the face. The tiny flame of hope I had regained in finding out that Mike wasn’t her lover sparked into a fire when we locked eyes, arguing over the Kanes. Now, faced with her boyfriend of nine years, the guy she moved on from me to, the guy who was just supposed to be a rebound like Parker was for me, the fire feels like it’s doused and covered up in ashes. 

I watch Veronica turn from me to greet Piz with a smile. The smile seems genuine, and I feel like my hope has started burrowing its way to China. The only thing I can be glad of is that I’m subjected to witnessing another kiss between them as Veronica moves towards Piz. I still have nightmares of that night, the elevator door opening and the two of them kissing. Sometimes to switch things up and really torture myself, my subconscious transposes that fucking sex video and I get to watch them writhing in ecstasy as the doors open. 

Now that he’s here, I should probably just go and let them talk or whatever. We can pick all this up tomorrow after I’ve gotten some sleep. Maybe we’ll be able to figure things out when everything isn’t so raw and bleeding. 

Reluctantly, I move to the door, hoping to leave unobserved since I can’t trust my voice or my face to not betray the despair I’m feeling. Veronica is talking quietly to Piz, but Mike follows me to the door. 

“Hey man, don’t give up.” He glances back towards the couple in the other room, his voice quiet. “Things aren’t always what they seem. You look shattered. I’ll let her know that you went back to the hotel to get some sleep. In the morning I can pick you up and we can get some breakfast before we work on this whole mystery again. It was probably a bit too much all at once.” 

My eyes widen and I can feel that hope reversing direction once again. I nod, agreeing to breakfast. Weariness from the emotional day and my lack of sleep makes me feel like I’m moving through pudding. My thoughts are slow and ponderous. One of Veronica’s friends making an effort to befriend me? This is certainly new, but my exhaustion is keeping me from really processing it right now. 

He told me not to give up. Does that mean he knows something that would give me a reason to fight?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Logan get to know one another. I suck at summaries.

_**Logan POV** _

Light filters through the window as I lay in an unfamiliar bed, trying to orient myself to my surroundings. When I left Veronica and Mike, I decided to walk back to the hotel, trying to work through everything that I had learned. A part of me was excited to work on a case with Veronica again, but a much larger part of me worried over her safety and what it meant that there was some asshole out there trying to use Gorya’s threat against us. I dreamed of being able to see her again for so long, but this seems like a price too high to pay if it means she’s in danger. 

I run through possible suspects the entire way back, purposefully avoiding thinking about Veronica herself. That way lay madness and despair. 

By the time I got back to the hotel, I was so physically and emotionally exhausted my body just gave out on me. Sleep claimed me as soon as my head hit the pillow. Waking up, it takes me a minute to remember where I am and why. I let the events of yesterday wash over me again as I lay staring at the stained ceiling. This time though, I allow myself the luxury of thinking of Veronica directly. 

I’m elated, but also deeply saddened by the whole situation. Close enough to touch her after nine years, but separated by an invisible wall. This all feels temporary, a brief truce before I’m shut out, game over, game, set, match. Absolutely no chance for a fucking home run. 

_Fuck, where the hell are all these sports metaphors coming from?_

I chalk it up to watching that terrible movie with Jon Hamm on the flight over, _Million Dollar Arm_. One more point against commercial flights: terrible movie choices. 

Still, it all fits. Knowing Veronica, she’ll let me in just long enough to figure out what this new threat is, and then she’ll be sending me on my way without even a thank you. She’ll go back to living her life here in New York and I’ll...well, I’ll go back to surviving. I’ll continue to try to fill the Veronica shaped hole in my soul with women who mean less than nothing to me. At least I have flying, although even that comes with an expiration date. The Navy won’t let me just keep flying fighter jets for the rest of my life. 

This is fucking torture. I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through the next few days. To see her, be that close to her, but know that I can’t have her, can’t touch her, is like knives slowly peeling away layers of my skin. 

She’s every bit as beautiful and engaging as she was when I last saw her, even more so if that is even possible. A part of me was afraid that I had built her up in my mind, made our relationship and her pull on me into something that it never was. I have been known to be a bit of a romantic, and I always wondered if I had romanticized her. The one who got away; my own feelings of inadequacy making her into something more than she was. But an hour in her presence and I know it wasn’t just my imagination. 

Last night was like being on a rollercoaster, up one second and down, my stomach in my throat, the next. Veronica is the light to my dark, the yin to my yang, the other half of my soul. It was all I could do to not touch her. My entire body ached with the need to feel her skin against mine, to taste her again. My mouth fills with saliva, a pavlovian reaction to the thought of Veronica’s taste, sweet almost like honey, but with a hint of tartness. It’s ambrosia, I would gladly die for one more taste.

I’ve managed all this time by not allowing myself to dwell on the memories of the past. Only in my most melancholy moments have I indulged in fantasies of her in my bed. It’s enabled me to function to some degree, to avoid calling out her name in bed with another woman, but with her image so fresh in my mind, I can’t help the desire to wallow, even if I know its a dream that will go unfulfilled and I’ll be back to trying to force the memories back into their box once again. 

_Fuck it. I’ve been good for so long._

I catalogue all the differences between Veronica at 19 versus Veronica at 27. Her golden hair is longer now, and it's straighter than she wore it in college. There are a few minute lines around her eyes that weren’t there before and I can only hope that they are from laughter and not sadness. Her body, I pause in my recollection, feeling my body respond to the image of Veronica now. Heat engulfs me and my cock, already at half mast with my morning arousal, hardens immediately. 

Her body is curvier, more lush. My breath comes in pants as I imagine this new body naked, the fuller breasts still tipped with the sweetest dark pink nipples I’ve ever seen. As my hand slips below the sheet covering me, taking my hard cock in hand slowly stroking, I imagine her firm, flat belly flowing down to gently swelling hips, a blank canvas where blonde curls used to hide the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen. In my mind, I run my hands from her dainty feet, smoothing over slim calves finally arriving at her milky thighs. Toned muscles ripple and flex while I gently spread them seeking her wet, dripping center. Leaning down, I take one of those pert nipples between my teeth, biting gently before soothing the sting with my tongue. My memory supplies the soundtrack of her moans, gasps, and that little growl she makes right before she comes. My entire body tightens and shudders as I come harder than I have in years. 

_Fuck._

My phone vibrates and I roll over to grab it, my breath still uneven, heart pounding as I come down from my high. 

Unknown Caller. 

“Hello?” 

“Morning playmaker, are we still on for breakfast?” Mike’s far too cheery voice assails me through the line. 

“Playmaker?” Confusion infusing the weird nickname he’s given me. Is he calling me a player? _What did Veronica tell him about me exactly? What does he know?_ I take a deep steadying breath before my paranoia gets out of control. 

“I’ll tell you at breakfast.” The thought of having breakfast with this guy makes me slightly nauseous. Even if he and Veronica aren’t together, he still clearly is a very important part of her life, and he enjoys a closeness with her I can’t help but envy. 

He did offer me hope last night, though. I push my jealousy deep down. 

“Why not? I’ve done crazier things in my life.” Flip, casual, not at all like I’m boiling over with questions and a burning need for answers. This guy can give me insight into Veronica. I am not passing up this opportunity. 

Mike and I make a plan to meet in the lobby of this shitty hotel in thirty minutes, giving me just enough time to grab a shower and get dressed, but not enough time to talk myself out of meeting him. Mike didn’t mention Veronica, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask if she was still staying with him or if she went home with Piz. The thought of them going home together, a home that they share, leaves me with a pit of vipers swirling around my gut. I’m sure I won’t be able to eat a thing. 

Grabbing my room key and wallet, I head downstairs. I take the stairs, ignoring the elevator, telling myself that it's for the exercise and not because of any deep-seated elevator related trauma. Mike is waiting in the lobby, looking casual in a pair of jeans and a blue checked button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, leafing through brochures for New York attractions in the rack by the check-in desk. I’m struck again by how handsome he is. It’s a little surprising that he and Veronica have never been together. 

He’s definitely her type aesthetically. Tall, dark hair. I realize that my assumption about her type is based solely on the fact that she dated me and Duncan. I really have no idea what her type is these days other than not me. My mind whispers _Piz_ , but I shut that fucker down right away. Even if they have been together for the past nine years, live together, whatever the fuck, I refuse to believe that he is what she really wants. 

Mike looks up from the brochure in his hand as I walk towards him, a huge grin splitting his face. The way his eyes rove up and down my figure, I feel oddly cheapened, like I’m a steak that he can’t wait to consume. It’s not an entirely unfamiliar feeling though usually when I’m on the receiving end, it's a woman licking her lips suggestively. 

Like a bolt of lighting striking, everything comes into clarity. His phrasing last night when he said Veronica wasn’t his type. I just thought he was an idiot because Veronica is the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen and if this guy couldn’t see it, he didn’t deserve her. 

I really can’t stop myself from blurting, “Are you gay?”

Mike’s laughter is warm, without any rancor. “So not as self-involved as Pixie-chick. You might be an easier project than she was.”

My confusion must show on my face because he just laughs harder before slapping me on the back lightly. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything, but only once we eat. I had to slip out of the house this morning before she was awake so I couldn’t risk making coffee and I am in dire need of some caffeine.” He leads us out of the hotel, turning in the direction of his house. 

I restrain myself from asking questions despite the thousands clamoring for attention in my head, choosing instead to enjoy the walk and take in the changes in the city as we traverse neighborhoods. Last night I was so distracted by my thoughts, I didn’t even pay attention to where I was. As we walk starting where the hotel is, the neighborhood is downtrodden but as we move a few blocks, posh hotels and apartment buildings intermix with stately brownstones like Mike’s place, speaking of money and wealth.

After about twenty minutes of walking in silence, Mike points to a cafe across the street. I shrug, not really caring where we eat. While I visited New York frequently with my parents as a child, I really only saw a small portion of it. Aaron Echolls only went to the types of places where it would be a boost to his career to be seen. Quaint cafes on side streets certainly weren’t his style.

As we are seated at an outdoor table, Mike fixes me with a concerned gaze. “Are you always this quiet?”

“No.” I cross my arms across my chest, leaning back in my chair as I stare back at him, face impassive. I don’t know what he wants. The only reason I’m doing this is because he knows Veronica and might be able to help me understand the woman she is now. 

“You can relax, I don’t bite,” He smiles coyly. “Unless you ask very nicely.” 

I smirk. It’s odd as I realize that I like him. I know nothing about him, but he seems familiar, like an old friend. I let my arms drop, my one hand sits sedately in my lap while the other fidgets with the silverware. I look down at the table, avoiding his eyes. “Why did you ask me to breakfast?” 

_Why did you give me hope, whose side are you on, what do you know?_

Before he can answer, the waiter comes by to take our order. Mike orders a cheese and bacon omelette, a side of bacon, and coffee. His order makes me think of Veronica and a small smile forms before I slip back on the impassive mask. Not really hungry, I copy his order and add a glass of orange juice to it. 

With the waiter gone, Mike’s attention returns to me. His pensive face shows an internal debate, but finally he nods. “You want it straight, no games.” I shrug. “I’m going to tell you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” 

“Are you a lawyer too?” 

“God, no. I’m a therapist.” He shakes his head and chuckles. At my glare, he quickly continues, “I’m not Pixie-chick’s therapist. No doctor-patient confidentiality. I really am just her friend. We met at Stanford when she was studying psychology. You know her undergrad is in psychology right?” I shake my head, not trusting my voice. “Well, it is. We were in a class together.”

His eyes have a faraway look, as if he’s remembering that time. I wish I could see what he’s seeing. 

“She was ... ” he pauses, eyes glancing up at the sky as he searches for the right words to describe her. I can think of a million adjectives, but I stay silent. He shakes his head. “Broken. I’ve never seen a person more closed off. Everything about her was a giant warning sign telling people to stay away. There was anger, but also sadness. My heart broke watching her in class. It was clear that despite her armor, the subject matter was tearing her up inside.”

His face is sad, remembering a girl who had shut down. I understood why she felt like she needed to. Hadn’t I seen that armor growing thicker, the walls pushing me out until I felt it was necessary to break it off before I was crushed under the weight of them?

“What class?” My voice breaks, my own armor slipping at the idea of Veronica in pain. 

“ _Overview of Childhood Trauma._ ” His tone says the title should explain it all, and it does. I can only imagine the types of things the class discussed. Topics that I still struggle to talk about, even with years of therapy behind me. “Yeah, that look, that haunted by ghosts only you can see, that’s the look she had in her eyes that day. I know that look, I’ve lived it. I was lucky, and I managed to come out the other side still able to feel, but her, I could see her future that day. Alone, miserable, the light in her eyes completely gone. She was such a force, but she was dying inside. I couldn’t stand to see it.”

I stare at him in awe. This stranger who truly saw her and stepped in to save her from herself. It was a feat I tried many times only to be shoved back. I should be jealous, but all I feel is gratitude because the woman I met last night wasn’t a shell, shut down emotionally. She was still tough and held her armor close, but I could see that light Mike spoke of, her innate goodness. It was that light that I fell in love with, that I’m still in love with. 

“I kind of stalked her after that.” He shrugs, sheepish. “It started as a project, a way to help someone in need, but it turned out to save me too. She’s an amazing person.” 

“Yeah.” My voice is quiet, my mind still picturing Veronica meeting and befriending the man before me. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I love her.” Jealousy flares before I remind myself that his love is not like mine. He has no desire to touch her. If he notices, he ignores it. “She’s better, but she’s still denying herself. I am tired of watching her lie to herself and everyone else. She’s living her life for others' expectations and if it doesn’t stop soon, I’m afraid she’ll start to shut down again. This relationship with Piz is a manifestation of her delusions.”

I glare at the table at the mention of Piz. 

Our food arrives before anything else can be said. I think about what he’s said as I eat. Veronica is living a lie. I don’t know if that’s true, but the part about her trying to live up to others' expectations rather than doing what she wants rings true to me. Wasn’t that part of the problem with our relationship? Her father didn’t like me, he thought I was the bad boy trying to lead his daughter astray. As close as Veronica and Keith are, it didn’t seem strange to me she was constantly trying to change me, control Keith’s perception of me. Even when she let us near one another, she had to control the entire conversation as if she thought I would fail some critical test. It left me feeling like a disappointment and failure. 

Keith always seemed to like her other boyfriends more. The so called nice guys. I was the guy who was most likely to be arrested, to get into a fight. I wasn’t nearly good enough for his precious daughter. I can see how Piz would fit into the role of the parentally approved boyfriend. Nice, sweet, drama free Piz. A father’s wet dream. Whereas I was his worst nightmare. 

Mike pauses in his consumption of his omelette and takes in my pensive face. “Look, I’m not going to betray her secrets or tell you anything that shouldn’t come from her. I really just wanted to explain my relationship with her and get to know you a little bit. She’s talked about you. You _are_ special to her.”

He leaves it hanging there, a spider watching his prey. I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond, but I can feel my defensiveness taking over. 

“I wouldn’t know since she hasn’t even called in almost nine years.”

“Ah, yes, the playmaker.” He chuckles softly. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Heat rushes to my face as I flush, caught between anger and embarrassment. 

“Pixie-chick always said you were a psychotic jackass. Playmaker sounds better. It means the same thing.” His smile is unrepentant, open like he’s inviting me to join the joke. I take a deep breath, relaxing the grip on my fork when I notice my knuckles turning white. “Logan, really, I’m not here to mess with you. I don’t know what the future holds, but I think it was fate that brought you back together now. I don’t know what is going on in your life, but she’s been struggling. Even if it's just closure that you both obviously need, I’m glad you’re here. She’s brighter when you’re near.”

I nod, my throat tightening at the thought of closing the door on Veronica. If it's what she needs, I’ll do it. I’ll go back to my life and leave hers. I love her enough for that. 

Mike changes the subject and before I know it, I’m telling stories about my training in the Navy. He certainly has a way about him that puts you at ease. He’s funny and thoughtful, and I find myself really liking him. 

“We should probably head to my place. Pixie-chick is probably awake by now. If we don't get there soon, she’ll come searching. I don’t think she’s going to feel very comfortable letting you out of her sight until we resolve this mess.” He orders a coffee to go, doctoring it with some cream and sugar. 

“The feeling is mutual.” I pay the check, waving Mike’s card off when he tries to pay. “So is Piz there too?” 

Mike’s smile is triumphant. “No, he went home a little after you left last night.” 

“Not a fan of the boyfriend?” Standing up, I try for casual, but my tone is a tad too eager. Mike shakes his head vehemently. 

“Absolutely not. He’s an ass.” The smile that lights up my face at his admission feels strange, and I realize I haven’t had much reason to smile lately. “I don’t know why she started dating him again, let alone agreed to share an apartment with him.”

“They haven’t been dating all this time?” Relief courses through me as he shakes his head again. Eyes narrowing as I latch onto his other statement about them sharing an apartment. “They must be pretty serious though if they’re living together.” 

“Roommates mainly. The dating thing is relatively new. I offered to let her stay at my house, but she thought it was too much like charity since I’m not there most of the time these days.” That sounds like Veronica. She was never comfortable taking anything she hadn’t earned herself, even if it would make her life easier. “Speaking of the house, you should stay. I have plenty of room and that place Keith put you is a dump.” Sensing my reluctance, he throws out the clincher. “She’s going to be staying there and it’ll be easier if we’re all in one place while we figure out who's after you both.”

_How can I resist an opportunity to be close to her, to ensure her protection instead of relying on others?_

“Thanks. I really appreciate that.” 

We arrive in front of his house, and I pause. I’m going to see her again. I feel like I have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t a dream. Of course, it’s not all rainbows and fairy tales. I’m only here because someone’s after us, again. I need to maintain a distance or else I won’t be able to handle it when she tells me goodbye. I mentally shake myself and walk up the steps behind Mike. I can do this. We’ll figure this out and I’ll head home. This time with her is a gift, but I’m not going to delude myself that it means more than it does. 

Veronica comes out of the kitchen, her hair sleep tousled and sexy. She’s wearing a cherry red tank top and sleep shorts with fire hydrants on them. I swallow hard, taking in her bare legs and the hint of midriff showing. 

_Fuck, this is going to be torture._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to my betas, HisBeautifulGirl and bugaboo. This story wouldn't be nearly as good without all of their hardwork. 
> 
> And thanks for all the feedback. I'm slow in responding to comments, I blame life, but I appreciate all of them.


	10. Chapter 10

_Veronica POV_

I spent the night tossing and turning, finally falling asleep around three in the morning. My mind was a relentless cacophony of what-ifs and should-haves. Seeing Logan again, being that close to him, it devastated my senses. Everything about him is exactly as I remember and yet completely different. The man I met last night was like Logan times a thousand. 

It was too much, and I was still attempting to put my thoughts in order when Piz showed up. I am filled with regret that I agreed to try dating again. Angry at myself over it. It was another example of me doing what is expected rather than what I want. I should have kept strict friend boundaries. I should have kept everything in the friend zone. I know from experience that it won’t work. Piz likes the toned-down version of me, the one who doesn’t get a high from solving mysteries or use sarcasm as a weapon. He’s never really seen the real me, and the few glimpses he’s gotten have always proven that I am not his cup of tea. Unlike Logan, who seems to always embrace all parts of me, the good and the bad. 

When Piz showed up, I found myself at a loss. He demanded an answer for my absence, no longer content to just let me do my thing and respect my need for privacy. I tried to be nice, but then he had to push me about Logan. 

_Flashback_

Logan’s eyes shift slightly, and his entire body stiffens. I turn towards the doorway and notice Piz standing beside Mike. My attention shifts from Logan to Piz and I notice the tightness around his eyes, the hard set of his jaw as he takes in the scene before him. I may not be in love with Piz, but he’s been good to me. 

I smile brightly and move away from Logan. There are still things that Logan and I need to discuss and figure out, but I owe Piz an explanation. 

Logan moves towards the door, obviously trying to escape unnoticed. I desperately want to call out to him, beg him to stay, but instead, I maintain my focus on Piz. 

“Hi.” My voice is soothing, still trying to be the perfect girlfriend even though I’m about to break it off with him. There’s no hint of the tension between Logan and me that was just on display. 

“Veronica.” Piz wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a hug, squeezing a little tighter than he normally does; almost as if he thought I was slipping away. He leans down for a kiss, but I turn my head slightly so his lips land on my cheek. “What is going on?”

“Let’s sit down. I have a lot to tell you.” I pull away and take a seat on the couch that Logan had been sitting on earlier. The faint scent of Logan’s cologne still lingers and I breathe it in deeply. The scent helps to firm my conviction that Piz and I are over. 

Piz’s eyes are narrowed and he regards me warily as he sits beside me on the couch. “What is going on?” He repeats himself, his voice indignant, arms crossed. 

“I...Someone is threatening Logan and me.” Stumbling over my words, I rush to explain. “Do you remember that fight at Hearst? The guy Logan beat up for the sex tape?” He nods, waving his hand for me to continue. “Well, he made a threat to Logan that day. The other day, when I came back to the apartment, I found pictures of Logan and a note threatening Logan’s life.”

His eyes widening and mouth dropping open in shock for a moment, Piz quickly rallies and asks for further details. I relay the information we’ve sussed out, quick and concise. How it isn’t Gorya Sorokin, the guy from Hearst. I also tell him about Logan’s and my belief that they sent the pictures not just as a threat to Logan, but also as a threat to me. Piz is silent through the entire tale, nodding occasionally. 

When I finally finished bringing him up to speed, he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

“So you and Logan are going to try to find out who sent the photos and stop them before they do anything to either of you.” It’s a statement devoid of the emotion swirling in his eyes, not a question, but I nod anyway. “And then Logan is going to go home and you and I will continue our life.”

I can’t help but cringe at his mention of “our” life. It’s not my life, it’s my beard. I’ve been using him, trying to be someone I’m not. I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t keep living this lie. 

“Ummm, I’m going to stay here with Mike.” Piz looks at me sharply, opening his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. “Whoever is after us knows where I live. I’m hoping that they don’t know about Mike because I haven’t really told many people about him.”

“But then you’ll be home.” He is persistent. 

“No. Piz, you mean a lot to me, but I need to be on my own right now. I have a lot to figure out and it’s not fair to you to ask you to hang around while I do that.” 

“I don’t mind waiting for you to figure things out.” Always so considerate, willing to do whatever I need. It should be a match made in heaven, but he’s still lacking those certain qualities that make my pulse race. _He’s not Logan._

“I can’t ask you to do that. Please, can we go back to being friends?” My eyes plead with him to let me go. 

“Are you going back to him?” His voice is rough with suppressed anger. 

“What? No, that’s not what this is about. He’s only here because of the threat. Once we figure this out, he'll be back to his own life with his girlfriend.” My voice is steady despite the heavy mantle of despair that threatens at the thought of Logan leaving. I just got him back, I’m not ready to let him go yet. 

Piz looks deeply into my eyes, trying to determine if I’m lying to him or myself. Seeing my resolve, his own eyes fill with tears. 

“It’s always going to be him. I thought you were over him, but he shows up, crooks his finger, and you’re willing to throw it all away. Throw away everything we’ve built together.” His body trembles with poorly disguised anguish. His eyes are glassy with tears. 

“I told you, this isn’t about Logan. This is about me. I’m not in a good place right now. Piz, you have been such a great friend to me and I don’t want to hurt you. I just can’t be what you want or need. I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you.” I try to take his hand, but he pulls back abruptly. 

Standing, he glares at me. “Lie to yourself all you want, but I know what I saw.” His voice cracks. “I hope you and he are very happy.”

With that, he walks out of Mike’s house. I slump down on the couch, feeling relieved to have ended things. 

_End Flashback_

I am sorry to lose a friend, but Mike is right, I was wrong to try a relationship with Piz again. It never would have worked. Now I’m stuck having to find another place to live. Not to mention that I’m still going to have to deal with Wallace’s reaction when he finds out that I dumped Piz again. It’s his own fault, since he knew how reluctant I was in the first place. However, that will be a worry for another day. For now, I know I can stay here with Mike and hopefully I can convince Logan to stay here as well. When he left last night, I was so distracted with Piz; I didn’t notice at first. As soon as Piz was gone, I looked around for him, but I knew it was a futile search. He slipped out while I was ending my relationship. I console myself with the thought he would have to come back. 

I wander around the house, keeping my distance from Mike, not wanting to get into a conversation. The day has been endless with the emotional turmoil. I understand why Logan would feel like he needed to leave, but I wish that he hadn’t. Not being able to see him and know that he’s safe is like being without light. My thoughts move to a dark place. What if he just leaves? What if I don’t get a chance to say goodbye this time either? He has his own life and I can’t expect him to stay. Yet he said we would work through this together. I had to hope that he meant it. It was a start and maybe through this we can regain the friendship we once had. I won’t allow myself to hope for more than that though. 

Mike finally stops me in my endless wandering of the house. While I am distracted, Mike isn’t afflicted by the same problem. He informs me that Logan is, indeed, safely in his hotel for the night. Seeing the wear of the day on me, he forces me to go to bed, but I know I will have a hard time sleeping, my head so full of Logan. I won’t really rest until I can see him again. _How did I manage these past nine years?_

Being with Logan again is infuriating, terrifying, and so completely right in a way that nothing has been for a very long time. 

I have to keep reminding myself that he is not here for me, that he has a girlfriend. We are not together and I need to keep my distance. We will solve this case and then we will go back to our separate lives. At the thought of going back to this half-life I’ve been living, pretending to be someone I’m not, staying away from the one person I love more than anything in this world, silent tears slip down my face. 

As much as it shames me to admit, I, Veronica Mars, cry myself to sleep pining for a man that I lost through my own stupidity. 

When I wake up, the house is silent. I glance in Mike’s room only to find the bed made and empty. Thinking he is just downstairs, I pad down to the kitchen, still in my pajamas. Only silence meets my call for my friend. 

I can feel the panic begin to set in. Before I can work myself up into a blind panic, I hear the front door open and voices float into the house. Mike and Logan. I practically run from the kitchen and skid to a stop at the sight of Logan in the morning. 

He’s wearing dark jeans again, paired with a forest green button-down shirt that shows off his broad shoulders and flat abs. I am overwhelmed with the desire to rip the buttons apart so I could run my hands over that chiseled chest, feeling the changes wrought in him since the last time I saw him. His dark gaze penetrates me and heat suffuses my cheeks at my thoughts. 

_He’s only here for the case. Nothing else._

Disappointment wells up, but I keep my face impassive, showing nothing of the turmoil and lust roiling inside of me. Logan continues to stare, and I realize I am still in my pajamas, my hair a mess from my tossing and turning. 

“Morning Pixie-chick.” Mike’s cheerful greeting breaks through my reverie. His face sliding into a knowing smirk and I want to smack him. He knows me too well to not have noticed my reaction to Logan. I don’t know if I should be thankful or sad that Logan doesn’t know me that well anymore. There was a time when just looking at him would be enough for him to pull me into his arms and kiss me. Now there is just a distance between the two of us. Nine years of distance. I don’t even know how to begin to bridge that. 

_Focus on the case Veronica, he’ll be gone soon enough._

“Morning. Coffee?” My voice is raspy, and my lack of caffeine is beginning to make me cranky. I eye the cup in Mike’s hand hopefully. _Yes, must have coffee, that’s why I’m so off-center seeing Logan. Once I have some coffee, I’ll be able to deal with him._

“I knew we were forgetting something Logan.” Logan’s eyes crinkle as he smiles at Mike, enjoying his antics. My breath catches at the sight. It’s been too long since I saw him actually smile. Logan is the son of two actors, and he knows how to mask his emotions. I’ve seen him smile in so many different ways, but only one is real. That smile is rare, it lights up his eyes making them glow amber brown. It’s a smile that warms you, makes you feel safe. I love that smile. 

Glancing away before he can see the awe in my face, I reach for the coffee in Mike’s hand. He pulls it up out of my reach and I have to stretch on my tippy toes to grab it from him. As I return to the floor with my prize, I realize my tank top has ridden up, exposing my midriff, and I tug it down with my free hand. 

A sharp gasp brings my attention to Logan. His eyes have darkened, and a shudder runs through him. He avoids my gaze, his eyes darting around the room. He looks up at the ceiling and draws in a deep breath. 

“Mike said I should stay here.” His voice is shaky like he’s afraid of my reaction. 

I nod, “You should. It’ll be safer if we’re together.”

He glances down at me through his eyelashes and nods before looking away again. “I should get my stuff from the hotel. My reservation was only until tomorrow anyway.”

I glance at Mike, who smiles slyly at me. I know he’s trying to manipulate the situation, but Logan staying here really is for the best. At least until we figure out who's after him. I wave a hand towards my pajamas. “Let me get dressed and we can go together to check you out of the hotel.” 

“Okay.” I head up the stairs to grab a quick shower, leaving Mike to give Logan the tour of the house. While I have stayed here frequently over the years, it is not my house. Although I guess with breaking up with Piz, I’m going to have to reconsider Mike’s offer to stay. I hate the idea of taking something that I haven’t earned, but I also enjoy having a roof over my head. Studying for the bar doesn’t leave a lot of time for working, and I really can’t afford a place on my own. 

I rush through my shower, eager to be back with Logan even if everything feels stilted between us. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to get to a place where we can talk like we once did. I call Wallace my BFF, but there are parts of me he doesn’t know, couldn’t know because he came into my life after Lilly died. The same goes for Mike. He may be my closest friend these days and I’ve shared everything with him, but it is not the same as being with someone who was there. Mike knows about the roof with Cassidy, but Logan lived it with me. He’s the one who saved me. 

When I come back downstairs, Logan and Mike are sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Logan talking quietly with an intense look on his face. Neither of them notice me, so I hang back outside the doorway, listening. 

“I didn’t know the guy. He was just some asshole, but the way he talked to her, how she let him talk to her.” Logan sighs angrily. “I just lost it. In some sick way, I think I was trying to make up for being that guy. The one who declared it open season on her, let her be hurt. I couldn’t stand to just stand by.” 

It’s strange hearing Logan being so open with someone he just met, but then Mike has that effect on people. He broke through my walls. I feel uncomfortable eavesdropping on such a private conversation so I walk into the kitchen cutting off their conversation. 

Logan glances up at me, but then looks down into his coffee mug like it holds the answers to everything. I decide not to push the issue, it’s obvious that he’s uncomfortable being around me and who could blame him. I walked away without a backward glance, and now I’m pulling him into yet another one of my messes. I’m sure he’d rather be at home with his girlfriend or off flying planes. He has a life and I am not a part of that. Pushing for more, no matter how I feel, wouldn’t be fair to him. I straighten my shoulders, resolving to be polite but to not force anything more from him than he’s willing to give. 

“About ready to go?” I’m impressed with how steady my voice is, no betrayal of how I truly feel. Logan nods and stands, putting his coffee mug in the sink. I look at Mike, silently asking him to stay. His answering smile says he understands.

“I’ve got some stuff to take care of so I’ll just stay here.” A pained look crosses Logan’s face before he schools his features into his indifferent mask. I get that he doesn't want to be here, but does the thought of being alone with me pain him that much? I swallow down the sarcastic remark that comes to mind, knowing that it won’t help the situation and is just a product of my defenses. If I want Logan to work with me on this, then I’m going to have to let him take the lead on how we interact. 

Of course, that doesn’t extend to letting him wander off alone again. The thought of him leaving on his own causes my heart rate to increase. _It’s just because he’s in danger, not because I can’t stand the thought of him leaving at all._

“Do you want to walk or take a cab?” I look up at him sharply, surprised that he’s not fighting me on this. “I’d rather take a cab since it’s safer, but it’s up to you.”

This is new. In the past, he would have told me what to do when it came to his fears around my safety. Instead, he’s making his feelings known, but trusting me to make the decision. I try not to read too much into it, believing that it’s more a matter of his concern for his own safety than his desire to protect me. Even after overhearing part of his conversation with Mike, I think it's too much to hope that he still feels protective of me specifically. It’s more just a part of who he is, he can’t help trying to save people. 

“Cab is fine.” 

He nods and motions for me to lead the way out of the house. I snag my purse from where I left it on the entryway table. Outside, I hail a cab with a shrill whistle. Logan looks impressed and I smile slightly at him. 

We’re silent the entire cab ride, careful to keep a distance between us as we sit in on the bench seat. I can feel the heat radiating from him, making me want to lean into him. It’s an uncomfortable ride, the silence heavy with things unsaid. Thankfully, his hotel really isn’t far from Mike’s place so my torture isn’t prolonged. 

At the hotel I offer to wait in the lobby, but my suggestion is met with a frown. 

“We agreed it’s safer if we’re together.” His words are curt. 

“And we’re in the same building.” Countering his argument, my forehead wrinkling with my own frown. “You’ve only been here a day, how long can it take you to pack your stuff up?”

_Shut up, Veronica. Just shut up._

The truth is that I’m afraid to be alone with him in a room with a bed. I can try to deny it all I want. Remind myself that he has a girlfriend and doesn’t care about me anymore at least in that way. But the fact of the matter is that I am wildly attracted to him. I just don’t trust myself. We haven’t even hugged or touched other than a brief brush of his arm against mine last night, but my body is still thrumming with anticipation, with desire. Like I told Mike, the physical side of our relationship was never the problem with Logan and I. I felt the tension between us last night and it’s still there today. It would be a mistake to give in to it, though. As amazing as it would be, I can’t settle for a one-night stand with Logan Echolls. _I want...I can’t finish that thought, I won’t._

We stand in the lobby facing off, neither one of us wanting to give in. Our silent fight interrupted by the desk clerk calling out Logan’s name. 

“Mr. Echolls?” The clerk is a pock faced guy in his early twenties. His hair is greasy and lays lank against his shoulders. His professional tone seems out of place with his slovenly appearance. Logan draws a deep breath, turning to face the clerk, acknowledging him with a nod. The clerk seems to shrink into himself at the sight of Logan’s angry, flushed face. “Someone dropped this off for you.”

He holds out a padded yellow envelope as Logan strides to the desk, snatching it from his trembling hand. I stand silently, waiting to take back up our fight, while he looks over the envelope trying to figure out who it's from. Muttering to himself, "No one knows where I am." he rips open the envelope and peers inside. His face pales. I take a step towards him as he turns dark wild eyes on me. I reach out a hand for the envelope, but Logan grabs it instead and starts pulling me to the stairs. 

I try to pull my hand from his grip, but it’s too tight. “Logan, Logan, Logan Stop!” My voice rises while I struggle to get his attention. I have no idea what was in that envelope, but I’m not going to be dragged around like a rag doll. 

“No.” His voice is rough as he continues to pull me up the steps. He refuses to let go of my hand, so resigned, I try to keep up as he practically runs up the four flights of stairs to his room. I guess the stairs are faster than the elevator? 

“You’re scaring me.” He ignores me while he pushes a door open and continues pulling me down a gloomy hallway. He fishes in his pocket for his room key with the hand not keeping a vise grip on my own. When we’re in the room, he lets go and leans against the door, his breath coming in anxious spurts, his eyes darting around the room for danger. Satisfied that the small room doesn’t hide any surprises, he fixes me with a cautious stare, as if he’s trying to figure out how to approach a wild animal. After all this, does he think I’m going to make a break for it? I want to know what’s in that envelope cause whatever it is, it has him terrified. 

“Logan, what's going on?” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. I take a step closer to him, but he holds up a hand to stop me. His gaze is intense, chocolate eyes begging me to give him a minute. 

“Give me the fucking envelope Logan.” I don’t have the patience to wait while he works through his freak out. I reach for it again, my fingertips grasping the edge, tugging gently. This time he relinquishes his hold on it, dropping his head back against the door with a frustrated growl. 

I look inside, glancing up at him in confusion. “I don’t get it.” There appears to be yellow strands in the envelope. I reach in and notice a scrap of paper with a few words. 

_"Thanks for making this easier. Can't wait to get the rest."_

It's a threat, but one that I really don’t understand or see why it would be causing such a strong reaction in Logan.

I turn over the envelope looking for some clue, but it’s just a normal packing envelope. I pull out a piece of the yellow strands. It's fine and silky. I stare at it, rubbing my fingers over it a few times. I glance up at Logan hoping for a clue, but he's already shoved away from the door, his hands running through his hair in agitation. He gathers up his stuff, throwing it into a duffle with no regard for order or folding. I drop the strand back into the envelope, still puzzled. He’s ignoring me as he frantically packs. I start to take things out, folding a shirt, but he snatches it out of my hand and throws it back in the bag. 

“Leave it. We have to get out of here.” Tension radiates from him, his body stiff. 

“Logan, what is going on. What is that?” He shakes his head, continuing to throw things in the bag. Did he unpack the entire thing expecting to stay for more than a day or two? “Talk to me, please, you’re really freaking me the fuck out.” 

Finally, he stops his frenzied packing and stares at me. “It means I made a mistake coming here.”


	11. Chapter 11

_Logan POV_

_Stupid, stupid Logan!_ By coming here, I’ve played right into the asshole's plans. He wants us together. Whatever he has planned requires Veronica to be with me. My mind has no problem supplying potential scenarios. If I had just stayed away, he might have left her alone. He might have been satisfied just hurting me. _Or he might have gone after her and you wouldn’t have a chance to save her._

Veronica’s eyes are wide with confusion. She reaches out a hand towards me, but I take a step back, my knees hitting the bed. “Don’t, please.” My voice shakes. I can’t stand to have her touch me right now. If she touches me, I might not be able to stop myself from pulling her into my arms and reassuring myself that she’s okay. The horrors running in a loop are wreaking havoc on me. I want to reassure her, protect her, hold her. Yet I know that she won’t accept it, and a part of me is afraid of what I’ll do if she rejects me right now. I turn away, resuming packing. Veronica stands silently, watching me. I can feel her gaze burning through the back of my head. I know we said we’re partners in this, but I can’t seem to find a way to explain this. _This is all my fault._

I probably should have expected this. Actions have consequences after all. I should have seen this coming. When I opened the envelope, I realized what I was looking at. The note just emphasized it. He fucking took it as a trophy years ago, and now he's coming to take the rest. I still have nightmares about that night; how close I came to losing her because I had screwed up. I trusted the wrong person, got her involved. Logically, I know that she was already involved, but logic has no place when it comes to my fears and guilt for Veronica. 

Veronica is staring at me with undisguised fear. I'm surprised with her quick mind that she hasn’t made the connection. He's obviously been here, knew where I was. I have to get her out of here, find some place safe to keep her until we can figure this out. I vaguely wonder if Keith ever found that giant hamster ball he used to talk about. I could use one right now. 

"Logan." Her voice is wary, and I'm reminded that we don't know each other anymore. All we have to go on is what we were like nine years ago. The person I was then was a withholding bastard who acted first and thought second. If I want her to trust me to keep her safe, I have to show her who I am now and not fall back into old patterns. 

I sit down on the edge of the bed heavily looking up at her through my eyelashes. I take a deep steadying breath. 

"I know who it is." I pause waiting for her to accuse me or worse, give me that disappointed look I'm far too familiar with. Instead she remains quiet, her expression calm, encouraging me to continue. I guess I'm not the only one who's changed. "Veronica, it's your hair." My voice comes out as a whisper while I will her to understand. 

Her eyes widen, and her mouth opens on a gasp. The envelope in her hand flutters to the floor as she realizes who it is. Her eyes close, a pained expression taking over her face as she sways slightly. I reach out a hand to steady her, but she bats it away. 

She stands, eyes closed, lost to her own thoughts and memories for what feels like hours. Finally she opens her eyes and the heat in them is burning. 

"Why would he be coming after you?" I was wondering when she'd get there. We never talked about the night she fought off Mercer Hayes, Heart’s serial rapist, and my friend. We were broken up at the time, and I was so ashamed that I had let my issues keep me from her when she needed me. Once again I wasn’t there, breaking the promise I made her. When she showed up at my room a few days later, talking was the last thing on either of our minds. I was so happy that she was there choosing me when someone wasn’t actively trying to hurt her. I probably should have told her what I did, but I didn’t want to screw things up and then, well, the whole thing with Madison came out and it was over anyway. 

“I..” I struggle to speak, stuttering. I take a deep breath, preparing for the blow when she finally learns what I did. “After Mercer was arrested, I took a baseball bat to a cop car.” 

Her eyes widened in shock. “Why?” 

“I wanted to get at him. It was the only way I could think of to touch him while he was in jail.” I shrug, not wanting to tell her what I did once they arrested me. Lamb knew what was going to happen when he put me in that cell with Mercer and his lackey. I did what I thought was right, and since I was released a few hours later with a $500 fine, that was the end of it. 

“Logan, what did you do?” The words send shivers up my spine. I know how this goes. It starts with _‘Logan, what did you do’_ and ends with _‘you’re out of my life forever’_. My entire body recoils at the thought. I just got her back, even if it's just for a short time, she’s here in front of me. Closing my eyes so I can’t see the disappointment in her eyes, I cover my face with my hands and hang my head. She’s going to send me away. I’m going to be banished again, only this time I’ll know that she’s in danger and there’s nothing I can do. My body trembles with barely contained anguish. 

I feel her sit beside me, but I remain hunched over. She gently pulls my hands away from my face. I don’t resist, but I keep my eyes closed. I’m an ostrich, if I can’t see the bad thing coming, maybe it won’t. Childish, I know. Her fingers touch my face, forcing me to raise my head. I can feel her breath on my cheek. Startled that she’s so close, my eyes snap open. Lapis blue eyes meet my gaze. Her face is so close to mine. I dart a glance to her lips but quickly return to her eyes. My body is going haywire with her so close, her hands touching me. It's like being touched by a live wire. 

My breath stutters as she licks her lips. “What happened?” Her voice is breathy, a whisper across my skin. I’m completely lost. _What were we talking about?_ I am filled with an overwhelming need to feel her lips against mine. Before I even form the thought my body is leaning forward, my lips ready to capture hers. She gasps and pulls back, leaving me bereft. 

She stands abruptly moving to stand by the door like she’s going to bolt out of it at any moment., repeating her question, I shake my head trying to dislodge the thoughts that have taken up residence. She has a boyfriend, she doesn’t want me in her life, this is just a temporary truce. She’s definitely not going to want me when I tell her what I did. I straighten my shoulders, preparing to take my punishment, Aaron’s voice in my head telling me to take it like a man. 

“I did what I had to. He hurt you. He pretended to be my friend and he used me and tried to rape you.” I’m not going to apologize. An apology means that I regret what I did and while I know it's the reason for our current predicament, I refuse to be sorry. I would do it again, only this time I wouldn’t stop until he was dead so he could never hurt her again. I avoid her gaze, standing up and resuming my packing. I can’t be distracted. He knows where I am, which means he may know where Mike’s house is too. We need to get out of here, make a plan, get help. I need to keep her safe. I can’t let her down again. 

I’m so focused on how to fix this that I fail to notice her coming up behind me until her small hand is on my shoulder. So much for all of my constant vigilance training in the military. Being around Veronica has me feeling like a fucked up kid again and I’m doing all sorts of stupid things. _Like almost kissing her._

“That’s why you didn’t come to see me when I was in the hospital or when I got home.” There’s no accusation in her voice, just a quiet wonder as if she’s finally solved a cold case. 

Keeping my back to her, I nod. curtly “I let you down again.”

“Is that what you think?” Another curt nod. “Oh, Logan.” The sadness in her voice surprises me and I turn to face her. Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry. I was so terrible to you back then. You didn’t deserve how I treated you. I could make a million excuses, but none of that matters, I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing…” Her hand covers my mouth stopping my words.

“No. You’re not taking the blame for this.” She shakes her head vehemently to emphasize her words. “Now come on, you’re right we need to get out of here. We can continue this later when we’re not sitting ducks.”

Veronica reaches for my bag waking me up from my mental breakdown. I grab the bag heading to the door opening it with a flourished bow confirming the hallway is devoid of any threats. “After you, Ma’am.” 

She chuckles softly at my theatrics and precedes me out of the room heading for the elevator. I stop her with a hand on her arm, directing her to the stairs. She glances at me curiously and I can see the questions forming in her mind. 

“I don’t like elevators.” I shrug nonchalantly. 

“Since when?” _Since I have started reliving the moment I saw you kissing Piz when one opened._ My re-discovered aversion to elevators is going to be problematic, but I managed to bury it once before. In time, I’m sure I’ll be able to again. For now, we’re on the 4th floor so there’s no need to put myself through more turmoil than I’m already experiencing. 

I shrug again. “ The stairs are safer. More options for escape.” 

She stares at me thoughtfully, but finally nods and lets me lead her into the stairwell. I use every bit of my military training, sweeping the area before we move down to the next level. Veronica seems amused by my antics, but her shoulders are stiff. _Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you._

We make it down to the lobby without incident and I check out quickly. As we step outside, Veronica moves to hail a cab, bringing her fingers to her lips. Placing my hand on her arm, I stop her. She glances at me in confusion. 

“We shouldn’t go back to Mike’s. If Mercer knows where I’m staying, then it’s possible he knows about Mike’s too. We need to find somewhere else.” Her brow scrunches up adorably while she thinks through our options. I shift my weight, waiting for her to speak, eager to keep moving. I feel like we’ve got targets on our foreheads standing outside the hotel debating our next move. 

Finally, she smiles slightly at me. “I have the perfect place for us to hide.”

I quirk an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but she turns to hail a cab without illuminating what she’s thinking. For now, I’m content to follow her, she knows the area better and fuck, she’s Veronica Mars, I would follow her into hell if she asked me. Eventually, though, I’m going to have to go back to Neptune. The Navy tends to frown upon their personnel just disappearing. If we haven’t solved this by the time my leave is up, I’m going to have to convince her to come with me. There’s no way I’m going to leave her on her own with a rapist after her. That is a problem for another day though, and I have all the problems I can handle right now. I’m barely holding it together as is.

A cab stops, and Veronica waves a hand, motioning me to join her in the cab. Once inside, she gives Mike’s address. My mouth opens to protest, but she cuts me off.

“I have nothing with me, Logan. Besides, there’s something I have to get from Mike’s.” 

“Veronica, what are you thinking?” We’re supposed to be in this together, but it's starting to feel like it used to. Me tagging along with her while she solved the case, a sidekick rather than her partner. My irritation with her bleeds through my words and she glances at me, her eyes wide at the anger in my voice. 

“I’m thinking, Logan, that Mike has properties that no one can find. I’m thinking we can get the keys and lie low there while we figure things out.” The words come out clipped, her arms are crossed and eyes narrowed. _Shit, I’ve pissed her off. Old patterns again._ “Also, if Mercer knows about Mike, I need to warn him so he can protect himself. I can’t have anyone else hurt because of a case.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just freaking out.” _Anyone else, what does that mean?_

The cab ride is short and filled with all the things we don’t say to one another. Everywhere I look there’s a landmine. I don’t know how to talk to her anymore without our history and our separation rearing its ugly head. Danger aside, I want to make the most of the time I have with her, get to know her again, bridge the divide between us, but I don’t know where to start. All of our conversations have been focused on the case. Hell, I don’t even know what type of lawyer she’s going to be or when she takes the bar exam or whether she still takes her coffee the same way she used to or not. This was not our ending; never were we supposed to be this lost to each other again. We were supposed to stick together. She is my oldest friend and the one who knows the most hidden part of me, but I don’t even know her anymore. 

Veronica uses her key to unlock the front door, both of us searching the streets for signs of surveillance. As I follow her into the house, I vow to find some way to learn more about her life now, to keep her in my life in any capacity she’ll let me. I can’t lose her again. I refuse to lose her again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas as always.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally post multiple chapters in a single day, but I thought today might be one of those days when everyone is trying to forget what's going on. So for your reading pleasure, well ahead of schedule thanks to the hard work of my betas HBG and bugaboo, Chapter 12 of Someday is Soon. Enjoy!

_**Logan POV** _

“Mike?” Veronica’s voice echoes loudly through the rooms. She throws her keys down on the side table in the foyer, moving further into the house, head swiveling from room to room looking for Mike. I follow her as she makes her way to the kitchen, noticing the way her back is stiff, her movements frantic the longer the silence holds. 

“Mike!” Her yell shrill, near a scream, fear starting to take hold. My hand moves without thought to take hers, offering whatever comfort I can. Before I make the connection though, Mike’s answering yell has her darting past me and up the stairs. Unsure whether to follow, I hesitate before running up the stairs after her. Following the sounds of quiet voices, I stand in the doorway of what must be Mike’s room. 

The scene that greets me reminds me of the distance between Veronica and me. The pain that hits me is visceral and raw. It feels like someone has reached into my chest and is squeezing my heart in a vise grip, radiating waves of agony through my entire body. Mike has Veronica tucked up in an intimate hug, her head under his, his chin resting on top, eyes closed as he murmurs quietly to her. His arms are wound around her waist, holding her close while rocking her gently. Her arms are wrapped around his neck tightly, her eyes closed, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Their pose is reminiscent of how I held her the night the truth about Cassidy Casablancas came out. I used to be the one she ran to when she was upset, hurt, or afraid. I was her safe place. Now what am I? _Nothing._ Where do I belong in her life? _Nowhere._

The tears fill my eyes, but I rub them harshly, holding it all at bay. Mike senses me and opens his eyes. His electric blue gaze filled with pity and I want to hit him, hit anything. Rage courses through my veins and my entire body trembles with the effort of containing it. _Mine, she’s mine._

Mike slowly untangles himself from Veronica, who's still oblivious to my presence. He kisses the top of her head before taking a step back. “Hey man. Veronica was just telling me about the nasty surprise at your hotel.” His voice is soothing, like he can tell I’m seconds away from losing it. I wouldn’t be surprised if my skin was as red as the rage still rushing through me. I take several deep breaths, trying to calm down. _He’s her friend. Of course she went to her friend to share her worries and fears. I’m sure not finding him immediately when we got back only intensified everything that she’s feeling. I am such a selfish jackass._

I didn’t even consider how seeing that hair must have made her feel. I was so wrapped up in my own fears and issues that I completely ignored all the signs she needed me. It probably brought up all those old memories, fighting off Mercer, Cassidy, Duncan. Okay, maybe not that last one since she never seemed to see what Duncan did as rape. I shut down that line of thought, slamming the door on it before I find myself beyond control. _Fuck, I need a drink._

“How much did she tell you?” I try to keep my voice steady, unwilling to betray the myriad of emotions swirling through me, anger, fear, despair, love, lust, regret. Veronica has finally noticed me and is gazing at me curiously. Her eyes are stormy as she wipes the remaining tears from her face. She answers my question before Mike can.

“I told him about the package and that we need to leave.” Her simple honesty surprises me, my eyes widening slightly. This Veronica Mars is different from the one I knew. _My_ Veronica wouldn’t have apologized, wouldn’t have been so open, she definitely wouldn’t have stood there vulnerable with evidence of her emotions on her face talking to me honestly. _My_ Veronica would have run, pushed me out. This Veronica, _Mike’s Veronica,_ my traitorous mind supplies, stands her ground, tries for open honesty and isn’t afraid to show what she feels. I just wish she felt something for me. 

“I’m assuming you want the keys to the house?” Mike’s face breaks into a crooked smile as he looks at her. She nods, glancing at me and then away. 

“What house?” I try not to read too much into her avoidance of my gaze. I don’t know what’s making her nervous about this house. I really hope it's not the Hampton house that they were staying at before because it's very likely Mercer already knows about that one. He probably followed her there after she found the original note. My brow furrows as I frown, the rest of my brain catching up to my wayward thoughts. How did Mercer know what to put in that note? By the time the fight with Gorya happened, Mercer and his accomplice Moe were already in jail. 

Mike gives me an odd stare, but I shake my head slightly. I want to know where we’re going and leave as soon as possible. The longer we stay here, the less safe I think it is. My rage has subsided, but anxiety has taken its place, making me fidget. I run a hand over the back of my neck while I wait for Veronica’s answer. 

“It’s not really a house per se.” Veronica tilts her head and I brace myself. That head tilt is dangerous. “Mike has a cabin in West Virginia, it’s completely off the grid, no cell reception, no internet. It doesn’t exist and there is no way to trace it to either Mike or myself.” 

“So your plan is we hole up in a cabin in some hollar?” I’m not the entitled snob I was in high school. Having a real job in the real world has mostly broken me of my previous habits, but the thought of going off the grid in what is sure to be some rundown cabin in the middle of nowhere doesn’t sound like my cup of tea. I look closely at Veronica, her head is still tilted and a slight smile graces her face. The girl I knew wasn’t really the outdoorsy type, but from the way she describes the cabin it’s clear that this is a place she’s been and doesn’t mind. 

I am completely off my game these past few days. As I turn the idea over in my mind I realize the other side of what she’s suggesting. Her and me, alone, in a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere, just us. Before I follow down that rabbit hole too fast, reality quickly sets in reminding me of my life now. 

“How are we going to work the case without resources? I can’t be out of communication. I’m on leave, but I have to be reachable at all times.” My shoulders lift in a halfhearted shrug as I list my concerns with this plan. 

“Pixie-chick might be overselling how off the grid it is. She’s also leaving out some key features. The so-called cabin is more of a rustic resort. It’s got six bedrooms, a pool, plenty of private land for hiking. It also has the internet, but it’s unhackable and has a landline. Cell phone reception is a no go.” Mike smirks at Veronica, who sticks her tongue out at him. 

“It’s his smallest house.” She chuckles lightly at the confusion suffusing my face.

“I’d need to give my CO the number. How do we get there?” My concerns relieved, I’m ready to get a move on. I have four days left on my leave, though I can always ask to extend for a few more days if necessary. 

“We’ll drive, of course.” Mike walks to his closet, reaching up to pull down a bag. I can’t help the disappointment that crosses my face before I school my features into an indifferent mask. So much for alone time. _Oh Logan, you’re playing with fire._

Veronica moves to leave the room, but pauses when she comes even to where I’m standing. She motions for me to join her. We walk to her room in silence. Once again I’m struck by how little I know of her now. We used to be friends. Even with Mike joining us, hopefully we’ll have a chance to rekindle our friendship. 

I stand awkwardly in the doorway as Veronica moves about the room, gathering her things. Struggling for something to say, I let my eyes wander around the room, noting that it seems like it was made for her. If I didn’t know that she didn’t live here, I’d assume this was her room. There’s even a picture of her and Keith on the side table. 

“What about your dad?” My voice sounds loud in the silence. Veronica’s head whips up from the shirt she’s folding, looking at me suspiciously. “Are you going to tell him what’s going on?”

Her teeth worry her lower lip as her eyes gaze lifts upward. A classic sign of that beautifully brilliant mind, hard at work. I shift uncomfortably as the blood leaves my head and travels south. I am transfixed on her lips, wanting to replace her teeth with my own. I imagine biting it and soothing the sting with a sweep of my tongue before tangling it with hers, drawing out those breathy moans she used to make when I kissed her. She finishes her contemplation and her blue eyes draw mine. I keep my face impassive, afraid to scare her off. 

“I will call him once we’re at the cabin, have him work things from here.” She pauses, sadness maring her beautiful face before her mask slips back on. “He won’t be happy about me working a case. He was glad when I left it behind.” 

This is my chance to start to get to know her again. I take a step towards her, but she whirls away, looking in the nightstand for something. She glances over her shoulder at me and points at her bag.

“Would you mind finishing that for me? I need to make a list of everything we need to know so we can make a plan once we’re at the cabin.” She goes back to her search without waiting for my answer. As I start to pack the clothes she’s laid out on the bed, folding it carefully, she finds a notebook and starts writing furiously, sitting down on the bed a few feet away from me. 

We work in silence for a few minutes. I’m acutely aware of how close she is to me, but I try to stay focused on the task at hand. When I’ve packed all of her shirts and pants, I stare at the silky underthings she’s laid out, unsure if I should continue. I pick up a red satin and lace bra, running my fingers over the material. My body shudders at the feel of it against my skin. I drop it in the bag as if it burns me and scoop up the rest of the lingerie, shoving it in. Veronica glances up at me sharply but doesn’t say anything.

I start for the bathroom to grab her shampoo and such, but she stops me with a hand on mine. I glance down at her questioningly. I thought the feel of satin that has been against her skin was the best thing I’ve felt in a long time, but this is better. Her skin is slightly cold, but soft. She rubs her thumb across the back of my hand and my breath stutters. At the hotel, I held her hand tightly as I dragged us to my room, but was too agitated at the time to take notice of it. 

“I’m just going to grab the rest of your things.” I pull my hand away from hers, my heart racing. Before she can answer I rush into the bathroom and close the door behind me. Taking deep gulping breaths as I lean against the sink, staring at my pale face in the mirror. _She has a boyfriend, you are nothing to her._

A soft knock on the door startles me before her soft voice comes through “Logan, are you alright?”

I glance towards the door before looking in the mirror again. _“Get it together, Echolls. You can do this, you have to do this to keep her safe.”_

I stand up straight, run my fingers through my hair. Looking around, I snatch up the products scattered across the vanity and in the shower. When I’ve gotten everything I can carry, I open the bathroom door. She’s standing there, confusion and concern warring in her big blue eyes. 

“Everything okay?” Her voice is soft. I nod, not trusting my voice, and step around her, placing the toiletries in her bag. 

She stands next to me and zips it closed. “Ready?” Nodding, I pick up her bag and we walk downstairs to find Mike. 

Mike is sitting in the living room, playing on his phone, but looks up at us when we enter the room. He grabs the bag next to him and heads towards the back of the house. Veronica and I follow quietly. I feel like I’m a passenger in all of this. Mike and Veronica seem to have everything all figured out, and I’m just along for the ride. I trail behind the two of them and Veronica glances back at me, her eyes etched with concern. 

My smile is dim, but it’s the best I can muster. I can’t help but feel like this is all my fault. I played right into Mercer’s plan by being here with her. Mercer assumes, correctly, that I won’t leave her side. An easy two for one package deal. I have never regretted trusting him more than I do right now. There were many drunken ramblings about the depth of my love for Veronica, especially after I broke up with her. Looking back on it now, I can see how Mercer pushed for information on Veronica and I was so blind, I practically handed her to him on a silver platter. He’s expecting me to stay with her, so if I left, there’s a good chance Veronica could stay safely hidden with Mike. The more I think about it, the more logical it sounds in my head. Everything in me rebels against the idea of leaving her, letting someone else be responsible for her safety, but this could work. 

“Uh- maybe you two should just go and I’ll go back to Neptune? Mike and you can stay safe in the cabin. Mercer will just come after me.” 

Veronica stops suddenly, the color leaching from her skin as she stares at me with her mouth open. “No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “Just no, Logan. You have to come with me. I need you. Please.”

_Veronica Mars just said she needs me. I am never leaving her again._

She mouths, “Okay?” and I nod. There’s a garage behind the house. Brownstone in Manhattan with a private two-car garage, house in the Hamptons, cabin in West Virginia with six bedrooms. Just how wealthy is Mike? Veronica seems comfortable in his world in a way that she never felt with me. It doesn’t really matter, it's not a competition. Except it kind of is, and I’m losing. He has a place in her life, he has her trust, her love. They have that silent communication that we once had. What do I have? 

_A chance. If I don’t blow it._

Mike opens the garage, revealing an Audi Q8 and a black 1994 Chrysler LeBaron. My eyes widen in surprise. It looks exactly like the one Veronica had in high school. It can’t possibly be the same car. She replaced it with the Saturn before our freshman year at Hearst. 

“Is that a time machine?” Mike throws his bag into the trunk of the Audi SUV with a smirk. He tosses Veronica keys. I move to put my bag into the Audi, but Veronica snatches it away from me and tosses it into the back seat of the LeBaron along with hers. She smiles brightly at the confusion clouding my face. 

“It was a gift.” She glances at Mike as she throws out the explanation, smirking mischievously. Mike chuckles. Clearly another inside joke. Veronica gets behind the wheel and gestures for me to join her. I glance at Mike, but he’s opening the door of the Audi. 

I move around the front of the car, and Veronica revs the engine. I smirk at the reminder of another road trip. As the memory plays through, it’s followed by others and the corners of my mouth turn down at the corners. I wish our history wasn’t so fucked up. Even a simple joke has the ability to send me down a rabbit hole of regret. 

Slipping into the passenger seat, I try to find a comfortable position in the too small car. This is going to be a long car ride. 

“So what is our plan?” I shift my legs again. 

“You and I are going to drive to Mike’s condo in Philadelphia while Mike drives to DC. You and I will spend a night in the condo and then take a train to DC where Mike will get us before we head to the cabin.” She backs out of the garage, sweeping her head to ensure no one is waiting. 

“Doesn’t that just leave a trail?” She’s rustier than I realized if she thinks a couple of stops will keep Mercer from finding us. Obviously he knew enough to use Gorya’s threat to bring us together and where I was staying. I’d guess he’s bugged her somehow. At the thought, I reach into the backseat and grab her phone. 

“Logan, no!!” She yells angrily as I go to throw it out the window. I pause, turning in my seat to look at her incredulously.

“Veronica. Mercer probably has you bugged. How else would he have known where I was staying?” She shakes her head vehemently, glaring at me as she continues to drive. 

“I already checked all our phones. Besides, that phone is untraceable.” She lets out a tiny huff of air, annoyed, turning to look straight ahead. 

“Oh.” It’s all I can really think to say. I’m so out of my depth here. Once again, I feel like I’m just along for the ride. It’s not the way I’m built, to stay on the sidelines. 

“Look, we’ve got about two hours before we get to Mike’s Philly place, if traffic cooperates. There’s not much we can do on the case until we get to the cabin so why don’t we use this time to get rid of this awkwardness between us.” She glances at me and gives me a small smile. 

She feels it too, that distance that’s grown between us. It’s not just nine years of radio silence, it's not wanting to fall into our old patterns. I loved her, still love her, but even I knew that our relationship back then was toxic. We couldn’t seem to help but hurt one another. I wanted a chance to let her know who I am now and while I may not have a chance with her romantically, I want to keep her in my life when all of this is over. _Fuck I’ve missed her._

Returning her smile with a shy one of my own, I nod. “Where do we start?”

“Why did you join the Navy?”

“Cause I get to fly planes.” I slip on my aviators as I provide the flip answer I tell everyone who asks me that question. It’s a popular question from my old Neptune High minions. No one sees why the King of the 09’ers would voluntarily get a job especially one that made his life not his own. That’s okay with me because I don’t like to talk about what really brought me to that point. 

Veronica glances at me, quirking an eyebrow to tell me she’s not buying it. I should have known better than to think that I could get away with the short answer with her. 

I sigh heavily, knowing that my interrogation won’t be complete unless I’m completely honest. This shouldn’t be so hard. I want to get to know her again, have her know me. Yet all those old fears surface. What if she’s disappointed in me? Our brief interaction in my hotel room proves that I am not impervious to what Veronica Mars thinks. This could quickly turn into a game of landmine and I’m not sure I want to play. 

“Logan, I’m not going to force you to tell me anything. I was just curious. I assume it had something to do with your grandfather, but you don’t have to tell me.” This is new. Since when does Veronica Mars not go for the jugular when someone is keeping something from her?

“It’s not that. I want to tell you, but it’s a long story and there are some not so nice places along the way.” 

“Well we have a long drive.” We’re stopped in a long line of traffic when she turns in the seat to face me. “I mean it, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I know we don’t know each other anymore and I want to get to know you, but not if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.” 

The line starts moving and she faces forward again, weaving in and out of traffic. 

Another deep sigh, but if I have any hope of keeping her in my life after this, I’m going to have to trust that she’s changed. Her words and willingness to let me keep my secrets is so far removed from the angry, closed off woman I once knew it’s not even funny. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained._

“After you left, I was a mess.” I rush to continue before she thinks that I’m blaming her. “It wasn’t your fault. You were a bright spot in my otherwise dark life and you kept my self-destructiveness at bay for a while. Even if you hadn’t left, it was only a matter of time before I imploded.”

Her eyes widen in shock, but she nods slightly, choosing to remain silent.

“You name it I probably did it. I wallowed in alcohol and drugs. I took anything that would drown out the voices in my head for a little while.” I can’t look at her. “One night, I tried to drown myself. I was high and miserable and it seemed like a good idea at the time. I couldn’t imagine continuing the way I was, the days stretching out before me endlessly. There was too much pain, too much anger, just too much. I was lost and alone. I wanted it all to stop. The ocean didn’t agree. It spit me out half conscious, completely fucked up. A passerby found me freezing on the beach and called 911. In the hospital, I realized I didn’t want to die. But I couldn't keep going the way I was. Somehow I had become a victim like my mother, letting everything in my life control me; the drugs, the alcohol, the sex. What I really wanted to be was to be a survivor, for my life to mean something. I made a choice to get help. Trying to cope on my own with my shitty skills was just going to kill me.”

I don’t add that I didn’t want to hurt her with my death. I didn’t want to continue to cause her pain. 

“I went to rehab, therapy. I really committed to becoming healthy. My life was without focus and my therapist helped me to find that focus with the Navy after I told her about my grandfather.” She’s staring at the road in front of us, but from the tilt of her head I know she’s focused on my words. I consider telling her about the discussions about her, her strength and ability to move beyond the fucked up things that had happened to her and still find it in herself to help others. How I wanted to be better for her, become the kind of man worthy of her love. Now isn’t the time though. This is just getting to know each other again, words of love and devotion have no place. “Flying planes is indescribable. When I’m up there, I’m free. It’s one of the best feelings in the world. It all just fits.” I finish my story with a light sigh. I’ve skimped on details because she doesn’t need to know everything. She can make her own assumptions based on the jackass she knew nine years ago as to the kinds of things I was doing. 

I finally glance over at her and tears are streaming down her cheeks. I reach out a hand to wipe them from her face, but pull back remembering that I have no right to comfort her now. 

My voice hitches, my throat working around a lump “Veronica, please don’t cry. It was all for the best.” I don’t know what part of my story is causing her to cry, but I don’t want her to feel that she has any guilt in my poor life choices. 

“Logan.” Her voice breaks on my name and it breaks my heart. I didn’t want to make her cry. She pulls over on the side of the highway and turns off the car. She turns to face me and takes my hand into her two tiny ones. The feeling of electricity crackles up my arm as I stare at our joined hands. “I’m glad you didn’t die. I should have been there.”

I shake my head. _No, she didn’t need to see me like that._ “No, you needed to live your life. You weren’t responsible for me.”

“No, I wasn’t responsible for you, but you are my oldest friend. I should have been a better friend to you. I was so angry, a ball of impotent rage when I left. I was destroying everything and everyone. I needed to leave, but I shouldn’t have just left the way I did or stayed away as long as I have.” 

I wipe the tears from her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin. “Why did you?” I need to know. 

“Shame, fear, trying to live for other people. Take your pick. At first, I couldn’t be near anything or anyone that reminded me of Neptune. I was trying to run away from all my memories, all the pain. I was running away from who I was, who we were, what we were to each other. Everything that happened was too much and I tried to pretend I was okay, but I just wasn’t. I was hurting you and I hated myself for who I had become. It was easier to leave it all behind, become someone else.” I nod in understanding and she smiles through her tears at me. 

We sit holding hands, staring at each other intensely on the side of I-95 for a few more minutes. Finally she gives a little shake like waking up and pulls her hands back to the wheel, starting the car again and merging into traffic. My entire body aches with the desire to pull at least one back to me. I never want to let her go. 

“So what else do you want to know?” In for a penny, in for a pound. 

“Isn’t there anything you want to know about me?” Her voice is quiet, almost shy. I debate giving her all my questions, but there are things I want to know. _Why Piz? Why didn’t you call me? Did you ever love me?_

I settle on a safer choice. “What happened to the FBI?” 

She grimaces as if the memory is painful. “They rescinded my offer.” 

“They what?” My mouth gapes open in surprise. _Why in the hell would they do that? Don’t they know how awesomely fantastic she is?_

“Yeah, ummm. What do you know about those last few weeks Hearst, before you kicked Gorya’s ass for me?” 

“I gathered he was responsible for the sex tape, but beyond that…” I let my voice trail off. We weren’t in each other’s lives, not really by that point. I had started dating Parker and that was a complete mess. I really don’t want to talk about other women or other men in our lives right now. It’s still too raw for me. 

Veronica shudders at the mention of the sex tape. I can sympathize. That tape still haunts me even more so than the ones of Lilly and my father.

“The tape is part of it. After I found out about it.” _After I showed up at Mars Investigations Piz’s blood all over me and told her about it._ “I was hell bent on finding out who did it.” I nod but stay silent. I’ve never understood why she was targeted or how they knew she and Piz were getting intimate. Honestly I didn’t think much past the fact that it existed and someone had to pay. Not a lot of higher brain function going on when it involved Veronica being hurt. If I’m absolutely honest, there was also a lot of jealousy going into what little thought there was. 

“I traced it back to Gorya, but it wasn’t about me. The camera had been planted to track Wallace as part of some initiation into a secret society called The Castle. I, uh, Jake Kane was the president. I sorta broke into his house and stole his hard drive.”

Pieces start to fit together in my mind. Her dad losing the election, how she knew that Gorya was connected. At the time, I was more focused on the out of my life part of the story. 

“That’s why your dad lost the election.” She nods, a blush creeping up her cheeks. 

“I was out of control. I wanted revenge and wasn’t thinking of the consequences. Dad destroyed evidence to protect me, but the FBI decided I wasn’t the right kind of person for their organization.” She shrugs nonchalantly though her voice holds a note of bitterness.

“Then where did you go?” She left right after classes ended and I never saw her again. I had assumed at first that she was in Virginia for the internship and that she would be back in the fall. I spent the summer, trying to distract myself, hoping for the chance to work things out when she returned. I gave her space, never expecting that she was never going to return. 

“I had deferred my acceptance to Stanford.” I know this, I was part of the reason that she chose to do that, to make things work for us. “I needed to get out of Neptune. I arranged to leave Hearst and attend Stanford in the fall. Then I took the money I had saved and did some traveling on my own. I had never been anywhere really. Just a few day trips within California, once to Arizona and that post-graduation trip to New York for a week. I wanted to go somewhere else and figure things out. I couldn’t stay anymore, everything was crashing down and I just couldn’t. I booked a flight to Europe and spent the summer, working in cafes and sightseeing.”

That explains why her car was at her apartment all summer. I was just interested, not stalking. I assumed it was because she was in Virginia, but she wasn’t even in the country. 

“I screwed up Logan, so badly.” Her voice is shaky with what sounds like regret. “I left everything and everyone. I just ran. I was lost for a really long time, until Mike.”

“I understand. I was lost too. I think it's normal given everything we went through.” She places her hand on top of mine sitting in my lap and I shift slightly so she doesn’t notice the effect her touch has on me. 

“Please don’t do that. You’ve always forgiven me too easily. I don’t deserve it. I treated you horribly, I couldn’t trust you, couldn’t give you what you needed. You didn’t deserve that. I was a mess, but that doesn’t excuse how I acted. I didn’t deal with anything. I thought if I just kept moving forward, compartmentalized, it would all just go away.” This is the most honesty I’ve ever heard from her. Her hand is still on mine. I want to say something, but I’m overwhelmed. 

“I don’t want to do that thing where we pretend the past didn’t happen. This isn’t how I thought we’d come back in each other’s lives, but a part of me is glad that it's happened. I really missed you, Logan. I know everything is a mess, but I need you to know that.” Her hand squeezes mine gently before moving back to the wheel. 

I stare incredulously at her. There’s so much I want to ask her, but I don’t think my brain knows how to make words right now. 

“So, that’s what happened with the FBI. I don’t think it would have been a good fit, anyway. When I left, I decided to leave that part of myself behind too. I didn’t take any cases, just focused on school and friends. It’s what I needed.” Needed; past tense. _So what does she need now?_

“It’s my turn now, right?” Reminding me of our ongoing landmine game. I swallow thickly but nod. 

“Yeah, ask away.” My voice is almost a whisper, my brain still trying to process everything she’s told me. 

“Ummm, have you been with a hooker?” She glances towards me with a smirk, letting me know she’s not serious. 

“Still no.” My face splits in an answering smirk. “What about you?”

“No.” She chuckles at the silliness. It was a needed break from the past that has taken over the car like a fog. 

Veronica pulls into a rest stop. As she parks the car, she glances at me, her brow furrowed in thought. Her mouth opens to speak, but she closes it quickly. 

“Carrie?” She finally chokes out. I’m not really sure what the question is. How did we meet, how serious are we? I wanted to avoid conversations about other women, but Carrie is part of my present. I owe it to Veronica to be honest. Still, a little clarification would be nice.

“What do you want to know?” I’m trying to be open, but my tone still comes out bitter. These types of conversations have never gone well for me. I steel myself for judgement. 

“How did you two get together? I mean you’re in the Navy and I assume that involves a lot of travel and she’s a pop star.” Veronica twists her hands together in her lap, radiating anxiety. 

“We met at a party after my first deployment.” I shrug, not really sure what else to say. 

“You’ve been together a long time.” It’s not a question, not really. She’s seen the articles. I hate the attention, but it comes with having a pop star for a girlfriend. 

“We have.” My gaze is intense as I watch Veronica fidget in her seat, looking everywhere but at me. _What is she trying to ask?_

“Do you love her?” Her voice comes out in a whisper so low I have to strain to hear her. When my brain processes the question, my mouth drops open slightly in surprise. 

“It’s not really.” I pause. I don’t want to minimize my relationship with Carrie, but right now I have so much anger at what she did to me, what we turned into, I'm not sure how to really explain it. I try anyway. “I thought I could, someday. I haven’t said or felt those words in a very long time, but I thought I could.” I leave off that she was the last person I said those words to. She doesn’t need to know that right now. 

“Things in the beginning were good, but you’re right, I travel a lot and she’s got her albums and the tours. It hasn’t been good for a long while. She’s spiraling and I don’t know what to do for her anymore.” Tears stream down my face as I make this confession. I don’t love Carrie, not like I loved Veronica, like I love her still. But I do care about her and watching her self-destruct is one of the hardest things I’ve had to witness. 

Veronica leans towards me, but I pull back. I can’t take her touching me right now. Wedging myself closer to the door and looking out the side window, I take a shaky breath while wiping the tears from my face. 

“We broke up. I want to help her, but I couldn’t stay anymore. Our relationship became something toxic.” It’s out in the open. I can only hope that she doesn’t ask for more details. Not only do I want to preserve some of Carrie’s dignity, it’s humiliating to have to explain the abuse and the fact that yet again, I’ve been cheated on. That’s a fact that I’m still not ready to face. It’s definitely not a topic I want to discuss with Veronica, opening old insecurities. 

I risk a glance at her, but her expression is impassive. I don’t know what reaction I was expecting, but none seems out of character for her. 

I take a deep breath, letting my anxiety flow out of me during the exhale. There’s a grief process to the end of a relationship, but right now I don’t have the luxury of going through the stages. Besides, I feel like I’ve been mourning the end of my relationship with Carrie for a long time now. 

“So rest stop?” I reach for the door handle, swinging my legs out and relishing the space. Sometimes being tall sucks. I stretch, arms raised above my head, trying to work the kinks out of my back. Riding in this car was a lot easier when I was 17. 

As I finish my stretches, I risk a glance at Veronica. Her eyes are focused on my stomach where my shirt has ridden up during my stretching. I tug it back down and her mouth turns down in a slight frown. My smirk at catching her ogling me vanishes when her eyes meet mine. I haven’t seen that look in a very long time, and it literally takes my breath away. Her eyes have darkened to a cobalt blue and her pupils dilated. The blood rushes from my head as I struggle to remember how to breathe. 

It’s gone in a flash, but I know I’m not imagining things. Whatever else is between us, whatever else we’ve lost, we still have this. Veronica Mars still finds me sexy. My smile is brighter than the sun as I lead the way into the rest stop. 


	13. Chapter 13

_**Veronica POV** _

I trail a few steps behind Logan as we enter the rest stop. There’s never been any doubt in my mind that Logan Echolls is one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen, but I am amazed by the changes in his body since I last had the privilege of seeing it. That sliver of stomach showed clearly defined abs that went beyond the classic six pack. Watching his back muscles flex as he walks a little ahead of me helps to distract me.

And I really need a distraction right now, though maybe this isn’t the right one. _Logan’s single._ The refrain bounces around my head relentlessly.

I suggested that we try to get to know each other again, I just didn’t expect that revelation when I asked about Carrie. I was holding my breath, braced to hear him answer yes, that he was in love with her. While I may not have been able to open myself up to a significant other enough for love to develop, Logan has always been more open than me. He has been burned by love so many times, Lilly, his mom, me, but he never gave up hope. While a selfish part of me wants to believe that he hasn’t loved anyone since me, nine years is a long time. As much as I want, I can’t delude myself to think that there haven’t been other loves in his life since I left him. 

Nearly nine years and we’re practically strangers. Everything we know about each other is based on a time in our lives that is best left in the past. _How do you repair something that you broke?_

I have no fucking clue, but I have to try. I can’t lose him again. We’ve only been back in each other’s lives for 24 hours, but the thought of him leaving is enough to make me want to curl up in a fetal position and cry. I am terrified. Not for me, but for Logan. If anything happens to him, I won’t survive it. Maybe it won’t kill me physically, but a world without Logan would break me in ways I can’t even fathom. There would be nothing left inside. 

Back at Mike’s townhouse, I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, amplifying all of my senses and emotions. I needed an outlet for all I was feeling, but didn’t want to burden Logan. He was worried enough already. So, I ran to Mike; he has been my confidant all these years, so it was only natural to pour everything out to him. 

Mike suggested that we travel to the cabin separately, telling me it would give Logan and I a chance to clear the air. He even suggested we spend the night at the Philly condo to prolong our time alone. I know what he was suggesting, and he’s not wrong. It’s hard to concentrate on Mercer and the case with all this tension between Logan and I. We’re practically strangers, yet there’s still a deep connection there, at least on my side. I honestly have no idea what Logan is feeling or thinking. I can’t read him like I used to. His eyes used to say everything that he couldn’t put into words, and lord knows the boy had words for everything. The man, it would seem, is still a talker, but he’s more closed off, protected. I don’t know if that’s just his nature these days or if it’s me he’s protecting himself from. I’ve hurt him so many times in the past. It’s still amazing to me he would even consider being around me. His reaction in the hotel showed me he’s still affected by me, still wants to protect me, but there was fear there too. He was afraid of my reaction when he told me what he had done to Mercer. I could see his body tightening as if waiting for a blow. It’s how I imagine he held himself in the face of Aaron’s abuse. I did that to him. I loved him, but I treated him like he was a failure and disappointment. I played into all of his insecurities. I just wanted to build him up, help him become the kind generous man that I knew he was, but instead, I pushed him further into his self-destructive ways. 

In my mind, I’ve played out what I would tell Logan if I ever got a chance again, probably a million times; now faced with the opportunity...it just feels like it's all coming out in fits and spurts. Having a hypothetical conversation with a person in your head really doesn’t prepare you for a conversation with that same person in the flesh. In your head, their responses are controlled, but Logan doesn’t play by any rules but his own. 

I’ve gotten more comfortable sharing my feelings, but this sharing has me feeling out of control. It’s exhilarating while being completely overwhelming. 

My spine straightens and shoulders square when Logan holds open the door to the rest stop plaza for me. I have to make this right, even if I am terrified. I need to tell him about Piz. I don’t know if it changes a thing, but it doesn’t feel right keeping it from him, especially after his confession about Carrie.

Logan and I make our way towards the restrooms. When I head towards the women’s he starts to follow me. Pausing, I look back at him.

“Are you planning to pee for me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. A light pink color rises on his cheeks and he waves a hand, motioning me in.

“I’m just going to wait out here for you.” I shake my head in bemusement. I understand the sentiment, not wanting to let me out of his sight, but his logic is severely flawed.

“How is this going to work? You wait for me and then I wait for you?” 

“No, I don’t have to go, so I figured I’d wait here for you and then we could grab some coffee. Not all of us are pint-sized people with bladders to match.” His answering smirk and use of short jokes make me want to smack him. It feels more like us than the confessions in the car. I shake my head again and head to the bathroom. 

When I return, Logan is pacing, keeping his intelligent brown eyes trained on the bathroom door, waiting for me while also moving around to take in every person that comes too close for his taste. When his gaze fixes on me, he stops pacing and runs a hand through his short cropped hair. It makes me nostalgic for his overly gelled, perfectly moused hair of yesteryears. It also makes me want to take his hand and reassure him since I know this is a classic Logan under stress sign. I’m thankful to see some things haven’t changed and I still know him in some small way. A bigger part of me is just grief-stricken, though, that I’m the cause of stress for him, yet again. 

“Coffee?” Logan tilts his head towards the Starbucks. I nod and we get in line. Everything falls to awkwardness again. Both of us keep stealing glances and then glancing away. It’s very junior high. When we get up to the counter, Logan glances over to me and then orders. First for himself in a steady voice but then, with another quick look at me and a softer voice, he orders for me as well. I’m fascinated as he orders me a cinnamon dolce latte exactly how I like it with half the cinnamon dolce replaced with vanilla. It’s a little thing, but fills me with warmth. I’m not sure where I stand in his life, but he remembers the little things and that means a lot. 

While waiting for our drinks to be prepared, we lapse into our awkward silence again. This just won’t do. We reached a new level of intimacy in the car and I don’t want to see all of that hard work slip away. 

“Logan?” 

“Hmm?” He’s distracted as he takes our drinks from the barista, moving to the condiment table to doctor his Americano. 

“I don’t want it to be like this between us.” My gaze is intense, trying to convey all that I want to say. The corner of Logan’s eyes crinkle in confusion. I try to swallow around the lump suddenly in my throat. “One step forward, four steps back. It's always been like this between us. I think we’ve broken down barriers and the next second it's like we’re miles apart. I don’t want to keep going back to being strangers.” 

I look down, blinking back tears, unable to hold his gaze any longer. I have no idea what he’s thinking. I don’t know if I’ve been clear. It still feels like there’s a wall between us. In the past when we were at odds, I knew that he would always be there for me. Now, while we’re in this together, it just doesn’t feel that way. 

“I’m not with Piz. I ended it.” My voice is quiet, nearly a whisper as I force the information out over the lump that won’t leave my throat. “I never should have started it.”

Logan’s thumb and forefinger gently grasp my chin, lifting my head up. I keep my eyes downcast, unable to see him. His eyes have always been so expressive, but now I’m afraid to see what they show me. 

“Veronica, please.” His voice husky sending a shiver down my spine. I look up into his soulful eyes and I feel like I’m falling. Everything around us falls away, it's just me and him. His eyes drill into mine like he can see my soul and a warm, safe feeling envelopes me. 

His eyes travel down to my lips and I lick my bottom lip in anticipation. Coffees forgotten, standing in the middle of a busy travel plaza, I lean forward a fraction of an inch, inviting him in. Logan begins to lean closer towards me, his eyes nearly black as they focus on my lips, occasionally glancing up to look for some answer in my eyes. 

The shrill sound of my cell phone shattering our little world. Startled, I jump back, his fingers losing their grasp on my chin. I search in my bag for my phone. 

“Piz?” I frown, annoyed that he’s calling, interrupting. 

_**Logan POV** _

_What the fuck just happened?_ I clench my hand into a fist, the one that was touching her face, to still the trembling. 

Veronica steps away to answer her phone and I hear her incredulous “Piz” and I turn to retrieve our forgotten coffees. We’re out in the open here, I can’t afford to let us get distracted. Last time Mercer wasn’t working alone, it stands to reason that he may have eyes that we’re not aware of. Given how little we know of what’s going on, we’re being incredibly foolish. 

_Stupid, stupid Logan. Once again you’re being incredibly foolish._ I’m pretty sure I was just about to kiss the hell out of Veronica Mars in some random travel plaza in podunk New Jersey. As much as I am dying to kiss her again, now is not the time. Besides, I can’t imagine being satisfied with just a kiss. The chemistry between us has always been explosive and should something physical happen between us, I don’t want to be held back by something as plebeian as public decency laws. _Logan, stop thinking about her like that. Just because she told you she’s not with Piz doesn’t mean you have a chance. How would that even work? You live on opposite sides of the country. You need to focus on the case, keeping her safe and going back to your life. You know the one where she’s not in it, but you have an amazing career you love and a coked out ex girlfriend._

I stand holding our coffees, staring at her back as she talks quietly on her phone. Unable to hear the conversation but I can tell by the set of her shoulders that she’s not pleased with what Piss is saying. Probably begging her to come back to him, that’s what I’d do if I got another chance with her. While I’m over the moon thrilled that they haven’t been together all this time, it still rankles that he got another chance with her. A sad sigh escapes my throat. I _know I’m being petty._ Lord knows I got more than my fair share of chances back in the day and I ruined them all. Still, to have another chance...yeah I’d give just about anything. 

After what seems like an hour, though it’s probably only two minutes, she ends the call and turns to face me. I raise an eyebrow in question, but she just shakes her head. Taking her latte out of my hand, she starts for the door. I follow along, letting my longer legs overtake her to scout ahead and gentlemanly open the door for her. Our moment is clearly gone and if we follow our old patterns, it will take an act of congress for one of us to bring it up again. Though that was the old us. Didn’t our conversation in the car and her admittance that she didn’t want to fall back into being strangers change things? I honestly have no idea how to proceed at this point. I’m completely lost. My instincts tell me to say something, but our past tells me to keep my mouth shut. 

We get into the car, still not a word passing between us since that moment at the Starbucks. As she puts her latte into one of the cupholders and starts the car, I take a deep sip of my Americano, trying to get up the nerve to break the silence. The radio kicks to life with the car and I smile at the irony of the song playing. Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence” mocking me. _Is it a sign?_

The silence holds, both of us listening to the song, avoiding looking at one another, until we’re back on the highway. Just when I think I can’t take it anymore and I’m opening my mouth to say something, anything to break this impasse we seem to be in, Veronica beats me to it. 

“Piz wanted to know when I was coming back to the apartment. We’re not together, but we still share an apartment. We’re roommates. It made sense with New York real estate being what it is.” Her voice is tremulous, like she’s scared I won’t understand. “I told him I was going out of town for a few days, but I’d discuss it with him when I got back.”

“You didn’t tell him where you’re going did you?” There’s so much to unpack in those few short sentences, I decide to focus on the immediate. I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell anyone where we’re headed since we don’t know how Mercer is getting his information. 

“No. He asked a couple of times so he could tell my dad, but I told him I’d give my dad a call once I got to where I was going.” She glances at me in surprise. Her voice is sharp when she continues. “I’ve been out of the game but I do know that we need to keep those in the know to a minimum.” 

“Are you going to tell your dad where we are?” _Are you going to tell him that I’m with you?_

“Until we know more about Mercer, his plans, how he knows about Gorya, I just think it's better to keep the circle of who knows down to you, me, and Mike.” She sounds tired. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah. I think the more people involved the less safe you are.” She glances sharply at me at my dismissal of my own safety. There’s more I want to ask her, but this path of conversation seems to be fraught with landmines so I quickly change the subject. “How much further do we have?”

“About another hour or so if traffic keeps moving. Course once we hit the city, we’ll probably be moving at a snail’s pace.” She smiles slightly. 

“I’ve never been to Philadelphia before.” Her eyes widen at that information. 

“Really?” I shrug one shoulder. 

“Really. Aaron went once when I was younger for a movie thing, but I stayed behind with the nanny. I always wanted to run the steps of the Museum of Art.” Veronica laughs and warmth suffuses my body. I’ve always loved her laugh. It’s like pure joy in sound form. 

“Mike’s condo isn’t too far, so if you want we can take a run there tomorrow before we head down to DC.”

“You run?” I waggle my eyebrows at her and she laughs breathily. 

“I run. I jog five miles everyday and I was thinking of training for the marathon before this disaster landed.” Her answer smirk is smug and I can’t resist teasing her.

“Only five? That’s less than my warmup.” I smirk. 

“Some of us have lives and can’t be all gung ho military types. Though it's definitely done you some good.” Her gaze is appraising as it sweeps down my body. I shift slightly as my pants tighten at the look in her eyes. 

“Glad to see you noticed Mars.” I try to keep my voice light even as the blood leaves my head. It’s a heady feeling knowing that she finds the changes in my body as appealing as I find hers. 

“Last time I checked, I’m not blind. Military life agrees with you.”

Motioning to my body with my hands, I laugh. “This wasn’t just for the military, though I do have to keep in shape to fly planes. I really got into fitness during rehab. Replacing one high with a more healthy one.” 

Veronica’s breath hitches and her eyes turn glassy. _Shit._

“Veronica, no. Please, it was a long time ago. I’m good, really. Please can’t we go back to admiring my body? You should really see my six pack” _Please don’t cry._ I just want to recapture the lightness that we just had. Veronica takes a deep breath and smiles slightly. 

“Logan, as much as I'd love to admire your body, we can’t just dance around everything serious. Don’t you think we’ve done this dance enough, ignoring the hard serious stuff? If we want to break that, we need to acknowledge it, even when it hurts.” Her voice is soft. 

“I’m not.” I don’t know how to finish that sentence, taking a deep breath, I start over. “Ask me anything. I want us to be friends again, I really do. I’ve missed you so much.” My voice sounds pleading, needy and I pause to clear my throat. Needy and Veronica have never worked out in the past. “I just don’t know what to say. Do we talk about the case, rehash the past, pretend like we’ve just met. I will do anything you want, I just don’t know where to start.”

“I don’t think we can pretend like our past doesn’t exist. And I get that there’s going to be things we tell each other that won’t make us comfortable, but Logan you were one of my closest friends once. I hate all this awkwardness and distance. Was it always this hard between us?” She shakes her head, disappointed. “Maybe trying to catch each other up on the past nine years in a two hour car ride wasn’t a good idea. Obviously there’s a lot to unpack there.”

“We’re together now. I think the rest will come over time.” _Look at me being all mature and shit._ “I guess we are trying to force it. How about we start by sticking to our current common ground. If Mercer was in jail when I fought Gorya, how did he know what was said?”

“I’ve been thinking about that and I think you might be right, he must be working with someone. It’s possible that the two met in prison, but I can’t really see them sitting around commiserating on how much they hate Veronica Mars and Logan Echolls. At least not Gorya. I don’t think we really ranked that high on his radar. And we know that Mercer is a manipulative bastard.” Her face is thoughtful, eyes bright, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she walks through her theories. _Fuck, she’s sexy._

“So if Gorya is out, who else is there?” My fingers tap on the door frame, thinking, trying to remember any other enemies I may have made back then. Unfortunately most of that time after the fight is a blur. A lot of the time before then too, I was self-medicating with alcohol and drugs long before then. I just took a few hiatuses when Veronica was part of my life. 

“Moe, maybe? Until we do some research, I think it’s all really speculation. Mercer liked to prey on the weak.” She glances at me apologetically. Clearly I’m one of the weak he preyed upon. I lift a shoulder in a slight shrug, letting her know that I’m not offended. I’ve thought about that time a lot over the years and she’s not wrong. 

I must have seemed like the perfect mark for Mercer. Daddy issues, abused, looking for affection. All of it made me easy prey. I was desperate for a family of any kind, attempting to cobble one together with friends. This blinded me, making me willing to overlook just about anything if I thought the person was a true friend. I’ve long since figured out that part of the reason that Mercer befriended me in the first place was because of my relationship with Veronica. It certainly explained his fascination with our relationship and her sleuthing ways. _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer._

We lapse into silence again, but this time it's comfortable. Each of us turning the facts over in our minds. Sooner than I expected, we’re entering the city, and Veronica navigates the narrow streets like she was born here. 

“How often have you been here?” A slight frown furrows my brow as I try to understand. 

“Ummm, a few times. Mike has a lot of houses and I often came with him when he needed to check on them in person.” She shrugs slightly, tilting her head. 

“Who exactly is Mike?” He’s not one of the Hollywood brats so I’m curious where all these homes and money come from. 

“He’s my friend from Stanford.” She is being evasive for some reason. I quirk an eyebrow prepared to wait her out. She finally shakes her head, pulling into a parking spot in an underground garage. “Helman’s not his real last name. He changed it after he turned 18. It’s not really my story to tell. He inherited all this from his family though.” 

The similarities between Mike and I keep growing. I don’t know how to feel about the fact that she found a non-threatening version of me. On the one hand, I’m so jealous I’m surprised my vision hasn’t turned completely green. On the other, I’m grateful to the man. It seems that he’s helped her in ways I never could. I certainly attribute her lack of disappointment in me to his influence. I won’t make excuses and I’m responsible for my past actions, but I can understand why I made the decisions I made and acted the way I did. Now it seems like Veronica does too and it bred a greater tolerance for my sins. Or maybe she’s finally forgiven me for what I did to her. I won’t allow myself to believe that she might actually trust me now, I know I still haven’t earned that. I’m hoping though that in time, maybe. 

Veronica reaches into the back for her bag and I’m pulled out of my silent musings. I take the bag from her and pick up my own, uncurling myself from the car. She leads the way towards an elevator in the garage and I stop in my tracks. 

“Do you mind if we take the stairs?” I wince as my voice cracks, revealing my anxiety over the elevator. 

Veronica’s head tilts while looking at me. “Logan, it’s on the 20th floor. That’s too far to walk up. Especially after a day like we’ve had.” 

“I can just meet you up there.” I don’t want to split up, but my heart is starting to race and I can feel the cold sweat covering my body. It’s getting more difficult to breathe and keep my voice even. I can’t do the elevator. The few times I’ve had to take an elevator in the past nine years, I’ve only managed by white knuckling it or being high as a kite. That works around strangers who don’t know me, but Veronica will spot my fear instantly. As it is she’s peering at me curiously, trying in her Veronica way to decipher what’s going on in my head. I shake my head at her slightly. _Please don’t._ “I need to stretch my legs after being crammed into that cereal box car.” _Sure, piss her off, smart Logan._

“We shouldn’t split up.” She’s right and I know it. She tilts her head at me and reaches for my free hand. I’m powerless as she takes my hand in hers and pulls me lightly to the elevator. She holds onto my hand while we wait for the car to descend. I try to keep breathing. 

I’m riding in the elevator with her. I’m not going to watch the doors close on her in tears. It’s not going to open to her kissing another guy. _I can do this._ I focus on her hand in mine, careful not to squeeze too tightly. My breathing is coming in sharp pants and I take a deep calming breath. The doors open and we step inside. 

I hold my breath the entire ride which thankfully is very fast. Definitely faster than the elevators at the Grande. I scope the hallway the second the doors open, ensuring it’s all clear before practically dragging Veronica out of the elevator car. 

I pause in the hallway, dropping her hand, realizing I have no idea where we’re going. Veronica chuckles behind me before taking the lead. 

“It’s down here.” She saunters away and my eyes follow her swaying hips and tight ass for a few seconds before following. All that running has done her good. She had a great ass at 19, but now it’s a work of art. Slightly curvier, but still high and tight topping long legs that have no place on someone that short. It’s really hitting me that we’re all alone, not in a car. I’m going to be spending the night with Veronica, in the same place. 

It was torture being in the same city as her and not being able to touch her last night, now I have no idea how I’m going to survive. 

She unlocks the door and glances over her shoulder at me, her eyebrow quirking, “You coming?” 

I bite back my automatic response and shake my head yes, waving my arms for her to precede me. I look back towards the elevators and suppress a shudder. Hopefully, I’ll only have to ride them one more time and then we’ll be on our way to DC. 

I follow Veronica inside and pause at the door to ensure it’s fully locked, deadbolt engaged. I take in my surroundings. The condo is tastefully done in neutral colors. The lines are clean and modern, a complete turnaround from Mike’s townhouse in New York. Veronica has moved into the kitchen, clearly visible behind the counter that separates it from the living room. Her purse sits on the table in the eating nook. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Her voice rings out loudly in the space as she leans into the fridge. I find myself staring at her ass again as I walk towards the kitchen. 

“Water?” My voice is shaky and I clear my throat trying to hide my nervousness. Veronica pulls a can of Skist from the fridge and a bottle of water for me. As she hands the bottle to me our hands brush and that electric charge passes between us again. I swivel my head around the condo, avoiding looking at her. 

“This is a nice place.” Veronica opens her soda and leans against the counter looking around the condo. It’s clear that she’s been here many times. 

“It is. I helped him decorate it a few years ago when he decided to redo it.” I glance sharply at her. Decorating doesn’t seem to fit with my mental image of her. She gives me a half smile, shrugging her shoulders. “I’ve had a lot of free time since I stopped investigating. I needed some hobbies. I also knit now, badly.” 

The thought of Veronica Mars, intrepid girl detective, hard as nails with a heart of gold, knitting rips a loud laugh out of me. Veronica giggles along with me. It feels good to share laughter with her again. For as much as we fought, the passion that was always between us, this, the sharing of our sense of humor, getting one another in a way no one else did, that’s what I missed most about us. 

“So what about you? Other than flying, the Navy, dating pop stars, what do you do in your spare time?”

“The Navy doesn’t really leave me a lot of free time, but when I do have it, the usual, surfing, reading, hanging out with friends.” 

“Oh you have friends now?” Her voice is even, but I can hear the sarcasm underneath. 

“A few. So we’re here, what now?” We’ve avoided talking about the case but I feel like we can’t avoid it forever. 

“Well, I’m starving so I say we order some food and then watch some TV?” She tilts her head as she stares at me considering something. I swallow, unsure what’s going on in her mind. “And then you can tell me about your newfound elevator fear.”

_Shit._ I knew it was too much to expect her to let that one go. 

Glancing around wildly, I search for an escape. Seeing a couple of doors down a hallway, I latch on to the lamest excuse. 

“Where’s the bathroom.” She points to one of the doors, her face scrunching in a frown. I mumble a quick thanks and head to the door. Inside, I realize I do have to pee and take care of business quickly. After washing my hands, I splash some water on my face and give myself yet another pep talk. Honesty, we’re trying for honesty. I dry my hands and face and straighten my shoulders before joining her in the living room. She’s pulled out a few take out menus and is sitting on the couch, her shoes kicked off and her feet tucked up under her. She looks up at me as I walk towards her and waves the menus. 

“What do you feel like?” I take a seat on the couch, keeping a good foot of distance between us. She leans towards me to hand the menus to me. Instead of leaning back while I look at our options, she stays leaning, reading with me. Her position puts her off kilter and I half expect her to fall forward into my lap at any second. It makes comprehending the menus very difficult for me especially when a draft flutters her hair and sends the scent of her shampoo across my face. I close my eyes briefly breathing it in. When I open my eyes, Veronica has shifted, her face closer to mine making my heart beat faster against my ribs. 

“Whatever you want is fine with me.” I can’t help staring at her lips only a few inches from mine as she pursues the menus. She taps one.

“We’re in Philly, seems only fitting we have cheesesteaks.” I look at the menu she’s chosen, Steak and Hoagie Factory.

“I thought Pat’s or Gino’s was the place for cheesesteaks.” Veronica snorts. 

“Only if you’re a tourist.” Seeing my confused look, a sly smile crosses her beautiful face. “Mike primarily grew up in Philly though the condo is a relatively new acquisition. He schooled me on the various nuances of Philly. We came here on school breaks.” She snatches the menu out of my hand and reaches for her phone on the coffee table. “So cheesesteaks. Want some fries?”

“Do they have any salad?” I don’t really eat a lot of junk food these days. I’ve made a lot of lifestyle changes over the years. 

“Are you really asking for rabbit food over hot french fries? You used to love french fries.” 

“Not all of us have a super fast metabolism. It takes a lot of work to stay in shape for flying.” Veronica is blessed or cursed with a metabolism that basically runs hotter than the average person. While I’ve always loved teasing her about how much she eats, I also know that if she doesn’t eat regularly, her body will eat itself causing rapid weight loss and fainting. “Besides, I like salad. It wouldn’t hurt you to eat something healthy once in a while.” 

“I’ll have you know that I don’t eat like I did in college anymore. I have grown up.” Her tone is indignant and her eyes flash in that sexy way that tells me I’ve hit a nerve. “I’m not the girl I was then.”

She focuses on her phone, calling the restaurant and placing our order. The temperature has definitely dropped. Once she’s off the phone, she pulls her laptop forward, studiously ignoring me. She taps on the keys, clearly working out some frustration through her typing. 

“Veronica.” I try to keep my voice calm, but I’m feeling unsure. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…” I pause, I really don’t know what I did to cause this cooling off. 

“Logan, it’s fine, really. I’m not mad.” Her voice is tense, shoulders hunched. She glances up at me and gives me a wry smile. I raise an eyebrow, doubting the sincerity of her words. She definitely seems mad. “I’m not mad, really.”

“Then what?” She looks intently at something on the screen. “Veronica?”

“I just wanted to get a jump on researching Mercer.”

“Have you found anything?” If she wants to avoid, then we’ll avoid, for now. It’s not like there aren’t things I’m thankful for a reprieve from. I lean a little closer trying to see the screen. 

“Not much. Mercer served six years of an eight year sentence, released early for good behavior. Last known address in Los Angeles. No twitter, instagram that I can see.”

“Moe?” 

“Moe served two years and was released in 2009. He moved to North Carolina where he runs a tea room in Ashburn.” She rolls her eyes and I smirk. “No social media accounts.” The intercom buzzes signaling our food delivery has arrived. Veronica hands me the laptop and goes to buzz the delivery person up. I place the laptop on the table as the bell rings cutting off Veronica before she opens the door.

“Let me.” She lets out a loud exasperated sigh. I open the door, staring intently at the delivery woman standing there. She rattles off the total and I pull out a couple of twenties to pay, telling her to keep the change. I hand the bags to Veronica who takes them to the kitchen while I relock the door. Veronica sets out some plates and cutlery on the table. 

I pull out some more drinks for us and join her at the table. We both unwrap our steaks, awkwardly starting on our meal. I can’t tell if she’s still mad at me. I focus on my food, stealing glances at her every once in a while. 

When I glance up at her halfway through my cheesesteak, she has a weird look on her face. I raise a napkin to my face, wiping. “Do I have something on my face?”

She shakes her head slowly still gazing intently at me. “What?” She puts down her cheesesteak. I watch, frozen, as she wipes her fingers off on a napkin and gets up moving around the table to my side, her eyes never leaving mine. I swallow, tracking her movements as she pulls me to stand. She raises up on her tiptoes, her lips brushing my ear.

“We need to take care of something.” Her voice whispers and my entire body shudders. All the blood in my head rushes south. My heart feels like I’ve been running for miles, beating harshly in my chest. I draw in a shaky breath and lick my dry lips.

“What?” My eyes are glued to her lips as she pulls back slightly. She reaches out and wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me towards her. My arms slip around her waist and she rests her head on my chest. I hold her, my arms tightening around her when I realize she’s only looking for a hug. 

We stand like that for a few minutes until she pulls away. If it was up to me I’d stay like that forever, feeling her heartbeat, her soft body against the harder planes of mine. As she moves to sit back down and finish eating her face breaks into a large grin.

“We never properly said hello.” I sit back down, but my appetite is gone. Who would have thought a simple hug could unnerve me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry it's just been a long time.” She nods. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you last night, but I was a bit overwhelmed. Seemed kinda wrong that we’ve spent all day trying to get to know each other again and yet we hadn’t even hugged.” She shrugs, her forehead wrinkled as she frowns slightly.

“Me too. I wanted to hug you too, but I wasn’t sure if that was allowed.” My voice is quiet as I fidget with my napkin. “The last time I saw you, you told me it would take some time and then I never saw you again. I’m not sure what the rules are.”

“I don’t think there are rules Logan.” She drags a fry through some ketchup. “We’re friends. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

“Friends.” I turn the word over in my mouth. It doesn’t quite feel right, but it will have to do for now. Not wanting to push anything, I steer us back to safer ground. “What time is our train tomorrow?”

“I haven’t booked anything yet. I figure I’ll look up the timetable, and we’ll just go to the station and pay in cash so we don’t leave a trail. Do you still want to run the steps before we go?”

“Yeah, why not? Who knows when I’ll be here again.” _Here with you._

“Then I propose that we go for that run and have breakfast at this really amazing place. We can come back here, get cleaned up and make it to the train station around noon. There’s bound to be a ton of trains to DC.” 

We finish dinner, and I help clean up before we go back to the living room. Veronica suggests we watch a movie and we flip through the channels, finally settling on _Tammy_. We settle on the couch, maintaining a distance between us. I’m acutely aware of her, every shift, every laugh, I barely know what’s going on in the movie. About half way through, the day catches up to us both and I see Veronica yawn while snuggling deeper into the couch, trying to stretch out without actually touching me. I pull her legs into my lap, allowing her to lay more fully on the couch, careful to keep my hands to my sides. Her eyes widen in surprise at the contact, but smiles gratefully before relaxing. 

I try to concentrate on the movie, but my eyes grow heavier and heavier. It’s been a long day. I close my eyes, just for a second, and when I open them Veronica is leaning towards me, shaking my shoulder lightly, her legs still in my lap.

Not fully awake, I instinctively reach for her, my hands spanning her waist and pulling her to me. She settles on my lap and I burrow my head into her neck, breathing her in. 

Her fingers trace my face. “Logan, we need to go to bed.” Her voice is gentle, soothing. Bed with Veronica. As her words penetrate my sleep saturated mind, my body wakes up. She shifts slightly in my lap and I know she can feel my erection where it's pressing into her tight ass. My hands flex on her waist, gripping just a little tighter. She slips her feet to the floor, untangling herself from my hold. “Come on.” Her hand reaches for mine and I get up wondering if this is a dream. 

“You can sleep in here.” She opens a door on the left-hand side of the hallway and releases my hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I watch with longing as she makes her way to the room on the right, turning to look at me once before closing me out. 

I enter the room, closing the door gently and flop back on the bed. I’m wide-awake now and don’t know how I’ll sleep knowing she’s so close yet so far. After lying there agonizing myself with thoughts of could have been, I get up to shed some clothes figuring I’ll at least lay down properly. While I strip down to my boxers, there’s a small tap on the door. I debate throwing my jeans back on, but decide against it as I go to answer. 

Veronica stands; uncertainty in her eyes, already having changed into a tank and sleep shorts, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, face sans makeup. She looks like a walking wet dream. Her eyes take in my undressed state, traveling up and down before settling on my face. 

“You weren’t kidding about the six pack.” Her voice breathy, a light flush coloring her cheeks. 

“It’s the only one I have these days.” She frowns. “Sorry, bad alcoholic jokes. Guess it might be too soon for that.” She laughs and my answering grin is huge. “Did you need something?”

“I...Can I sleep in here?” She speaks so fast, I barely understand her. 

“You’d rather have this room?” Maybe there was something wrong with the other room. She shakes her head and my brow furrows in confusion. My mouth opens as I realize what she’s asking. “You want to sleep in here, with me.” It’s not a question, but she answers anyway.

“Can I? I know we still have a lot to talk about, deal with. It’s just…” She breaks off, looking down. 

“Veronica?” I keep my voice calm not wanting to scare her away. Of course she can stay in here with me. Even if it means blue balls in the morning. I would kill to have a night with her next to me. And it likely will leave me in physical pain since from her tone I don’t think she’s asking for sex. 

“I can’t sleep. I usually take sleeping pills, but they don’t keep the dreams away. I’ve tried everything over the years, but the only thing that’s ever worked was sleeping with you.” 

After everything we’d been through it’s not surprising that neither of us have the most restful of sleep. Veronica never liked to talk about her nightmares, but I knew she had them. They were hard to miss when she was with Duncan our senior year. I’d hear her crying out in her sleep, the only time I heard her crying out when she was with him, and then the shower would start. I would lie there, angry and jealous, wishing I could comfort her. The first time she spent the night with me after we started sleeping together, I thought I’d finally get a chance to comfort her after one of the nightmares. But she never woke up, never cried out. I stayed up all night watching her sleep wrapped up in my arms. She never said anything. Some small part of me that I didn’t realize was still broken heals with the fact that Veronica Mars still feels safe with me. 

Veronica is still waiting for my answer, her arms wrapped around waist, holding everything in. I nod. “Yeah, of course.” She smiles and walks past me towards the bed. As she curls up on the right side, I slip under the covers. She automatically snuggles closer to me and I put my arm around her and she settles her head against my chest. 

“Good night Logan.” Her breath is warm across my chest and my body tightens. This is going to be heaven and hell. Having her in my arms, but too much of a gentleman to take advantage of her vulnerability. I pull her closer and kiss the top of her head lightly. 

“Good night Veronica.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas HBG and bugaboo for putting up with me as I work through this story.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Piz POV** _

The room is dark, the only light coming from the computer screen in front of him. Piz drums his fingers repetitively on the desk, contemplating what to write. This was supposed to be simple, a sort of prank meant to ensure Logan Echolls would never be a part of Veronica’s life again. But, it doesn’t seem to be going to plan at all. He sits there contemplating, his mind wandering to when and how this began. 

_Flashback_

June 2013

“Wallace, I’m all settled in. Job starts tomorrow. Cannot wait. Anyway, call me back when you get a chance.” Piz clicks end on his phone, disappointed he couldn’t reach his friend, but sure he would call back soon. It was all finally coming together. After years of dreaming about being a radio DJ, his new job with NPR was a dream come true. Even better was that his dream was taking place in New York City, a city he had fallen in love with when he did an internship there between his freshman and sophomore year at Hearst. It turned out to be the perfect way to rebound from the disaster that his freshman year had ended up being. He had met the girl of his dreams, Veronica Mars, but she was with someone else. Then when he finally got his chance to be with Veronica, her ex beat the shit out of him, supposedly because of a sex tape. While there was a sex tape, Piz never really believed that was the sole reason Logan Echolls went after him. Even when Piz was hanging around waiting for his chance with Logan’s girl, he knew that Logan was in love with her. The kind of in love that doesn’t just end because you break up. 

After getting his ass handed to him, he then got to witness Logan going after the real culprit of the sex tape and the look on Veronica’s face made it clear that he wasn’t the guy. She let him down easy but still destroyed his heart. The time in New York helped him gain some much needed perspective and mend his broken heart. It didn’t hurt that when he got back to Hearst in the fall; she was gone and Logan was spiralling. The guy was a complete train wreck, and Piz took a lot of comfort, and yes pleasure, in the fact that he was destroying his life. 

Of course all good things had to come to an end, and Piz was witness to the transformation of Logan Echolls from a party boy with a death wish to a studious young man trying to get his life together. Piz was never sure what happened, but one second Logan was a hair’s breadth away from his last overdose and the next he was buying a place on the beach, going to class and getting his life together. He even managed to snag another girl that Piz was interested in and dated her all through their junior and senior years. Piz watched as Logan played at being a good boyfriend, but he could tell that it was never going to replace the one he lost. He took great joy in that fact, even if he didn’t get a chance with this girl either. 

Veronica never came back to Neptune, though Piz heard about her through Wallace and Mac. They even exchanged a few emails over the years. It was more than Logan ever got, and that too made him happy. 

Now here he was in his dream city with his dream job. It would only stand to reason that the dream girl would come back into his life. He knew from Wallace that Veronica had been accepted into Columbia Law, which meant that his chances of being with her again had multiplied. Still, in the back of his head was the threat that was Logan Echolls. He had heard that Logan had joined the Navy and was flying fighter jets now, because of course he was. By all accounts he had grown up, put his past behind him and was a more stable, less violent version of himself. And while Logan and Veronica hadn’t seen or spoken to one another in six years, Piz couldn’t shake the feeling that they were like a ticking time bomb. You didn’t know when they would go off, but eventually something would cause them to go off. 

Despite all this, Piz couldn’t wait to connect with Wallace and by extension Veronica. Perhaps he was wrong, and after six years, she’d finally put Logan Echolls firmly in her rearview mirror. His phone pings with an incoming chat on Google hangouts. 

_From: HM2007_

_Hey man, did you hear that the mountain goats are re-releasing_ All Hail West Texas _on vinyl in July? You should totally pitch that as an idea for your radio show._

_From: Pizski_

_That’s awesome. I love that album. Best Ever Deathmetal Band out of Denton is still one of my all time top ten songs. What angle were you thinking?_

_From: Pizski_

_I would die to interview JD._

_From: HM2007_

_I don’t know, maybe how his music has evolved since that first album? If he would ever consider issuing another record recorded on his boombox. They’re playing at that festival in Rhode Island in August. I’m sure you’ll come up with something._

_From: Pizski_

_I’ll think about it. I’m still really new there, not sure how well the idea would go over. So what’s up with you?_

_From: HM2007_

_Nothing much to report. Still trying to get out there and play, find motivation to write. What about you? Have you made contact yet?_

Piz met Hudson Moros in a chatroom discussing the impact of piracy on music. The two of them had been the lone supporters of music belonging to the masses and found themselves quickly kicked out of the discussion. They had exchanged Gmail names, and a friendship had sprung up through the use of chats. Next to Wallace, Hudson was probably Piz’s closest friend, even though they had never met face to face. Piz had told Hudson all about Veronica and even mentioned Logan Echolls as part of his story. When he mentioned that Veronica was also going to be in New York, Hudson was the one to encourage him to see if there were still any of the old feelings remaining. 

_From: Pizski_

_Not yet. Waiting for Wallace to call me back. It’s still surreal to think I’m in the same city as her. I keep staring at every blonde I see on the streets trying to find her._

_From: HM2007_

_You sure she’s worth it?_

_From: Pizski_

_Absolutely. This girl...She’s like no one else._

_From: HM2007_

_And you’re sure she’s not with that guy anymore?_

_From: Pizski_

_Yep. Wallace said that they haven’t even talked since she left Neptune. She’s even forbidden them from saying his name around her._

_From: HM2007_

_Well, I hope it works out. If not, I’m here for you man._

_From: Pizski_

_Thanks. I should probably get back to getting ready for work tomorrow. I’ll chat with you after work and let you know how things go._

_From: HM2007_

_Sounds good. Take care and good luck._

It took a few weeks, but Piz was finally able to get Wallace to connect him to Veronica. They had coffee, and it was like they had never been apart. Piz could still tell that she was the love of his life, the one who got away. Hesitant at first, Veronica wanted to just remain friends. But he attributed that to her need to focus on law school. He had agreed to just being friends, figuring he could work his way back into her heart. 

Veronica was busy with law school, and he was in no hurry. The two of them learned the city together. Not once did she mention Logan fucking Echolls, and Piz thought everything was good. It was just a matter of time until nature took its course and he would call her his again. 

_End Flashback_

Almost two years he put into that friendship, being patient while she worked on her law school program, studying her ass off. Finally, one night about eight months ago, they were walking back from a movie and he took his chance. Things between them had been good, and there had been a lot of flirting lately. Veronica was graduating from law school, taking some time to study for the bar exam before beginning her job search. She was more relaxed than she had been in a long time. Veronica hesitated for a second, but then she returned his kiss. Everything felt like the universe coming into alignment after that. With her lease coming up and the building going co-op, it seemed like a good idea to ask her to move in with him since he had a two bedroom. His own roommate had moved in with his girlfriend a few months before, and it was a struggle to pay for it on his own. 

Even when Veronica only agreed if they could keep things slow and that they wouldn’t be sharing a bedroom just yet, he couldn’t help but think about their future together. Everything was coming up roses until the day Logan fucking Echolls showed up again. 

He wasn’t even in person, just the mention of his relationship with Bonnie DeVille getting more serious. The cover speculated that the two celebrities may be headed for wedded bliss. Veronica didn’t say anything, but he saw the way her face blanched when she skimmed over the headlines at their local bodega. Piz tried to make a joke, but her face remained stoic, showing no emotion. If he didn’t know her as well as he did, he would have thought she really didn’t care. Unfortunately, with Veronica, the less she showed, the more she cared. She shrugged it off quickly and was back to being his Veronica, but Piz had seen it. 

Piz vented to Hudson that night after she had gone to bed. He just wanted Logan fucking Echolls gone. As long as he was living, Veronica was never going to fully let him go. They were always going to be connected by these huge, life-altering events that Piz didn’t understand. He was always going to be that guy she met after. Logan was going to be her knight in shining armor. 

Piz told Hudson how he wished Logan had just overdosed and died years ago. Of course Logan fucking Echolls couldn’t just live up to his bad boy death wish. Hudson was the one who suggested they get rid of him. 

It made sense. Veronica was always taking off for a few days, _“to think”_. Piz knew when she said that she was going to her friend from Stanford. Hudson suggested that they fabricate a reason for her to freak out, one that would make her call Logan. Then when he came out here, the two men would make Logan realize that being in her life would only cause her pain. Logan was such a pussy he’d gladly push her away rather than see her get hurt and knowing him that would result in her hating him. Then he’d meet an unfortunate accident. 

Finally she’d be free. She wouldn’t even need to know that he was dead, she could just think that he left her like she wanted. 

That was the plan, and it was working perfectly. Veronica freaked when she saw those pictures Hudson got of Logan. She ran like she always does when she feels out of control. Logan showed up, ready to play the dark knight for a damsel not really in distress. Everything was just as Hudson said. But then it went off the rails. Veronica dumped Piz, and now she’s gone off with Logan to who knows fucking where. 

_From: Pizski_

_Where are you, man? Everything’s a fucking mess. Veronica didn’t get mad at Logan, she broke up with me. The two of them are off on some jaunt and she won’t tell me where she’s going._

_From: HM2007_

_Dude, you’ve got to calm down. It’ll all work out. Of course she dumped you for now, but who do you think she’s going to come running back to when he fucks her over again?_

_From: Pizski_

_But how are you going to make that happen if we don’t even know where they are?_

_From: HM2007_

_Don’t worry, man. We just wait until she calls her dad. You said they’re close, so of course she’s going to tell him everything. Once he knows, you can find out._

_From: Pizski_

_Right, I forgot about Keith. I’m just freaking out. I want this over with so I can have the life I deserve with Veronica. I want them to end on my own terms rather than waiting for it to blindside me._

_From: HM2007_

_It’ll be fine. They think it's that Russian mobster you told me about. We’ll flush them out and then I’ll deal with Echolls for you. A few days together to remind them why they shouldn’t be together will only help you._

Hudson has been Piz’s rock these past two years. He could never talk to Wallace about how much he hated Logan, worried about him taking Veronica away from him again. Without Hudson helping Piz all this time, he’d have been a pussy sitting here thinking everything was fine just waiting for the shoe to drop. Instead, Piz felt in control. He’d rid the world of Logan fucking Echolls and everything would be fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas, HBG and Bugaboo. I almost went in a completely different direction but they got me back on track.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Veronica POV** _

Waking up, I become aware of limbs tangled together, warm breath against my neck, and a hand against my bare stomach. The feeling of a good night’s sleep suffuses my body with a languid feeling, and I’m loath to move and break the spell. Unfortunately, nature calls and I’m going to have to move sooner rather than later. I pull my legs from the tangled pile and slip out from under the arm holding me. Pausing to stare down at the beautiful man asleep before me, I am overwhelmed with a desire to crawl back into the bed and do naughty things to him. In sleep he snuffles and his hand grasps empty air. His eyes snap open, instantly alert, he sits up searching until he finds me in the room. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you. I just have to…” I let the sentence drift off and point towards the bathroom, sure he’ll get my meaning. He nods and leans back in the bed. 

I take a few minutes, taking the time to brush my teeth before I return to the room. Last night, it seemed like a good idea to share a room with Logan. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had an uninterrupted night’s sleep, and I couldn’t resist when he was so close. Now, in the bright light of morning, I realize that it wasn’t a very good idea. 

I don’t know exactly where we stand at this point, but setting ourselves up for anything more than friends is probably not a good idea. He just broke up with someone, I just broke up with someone. Even if neither of those relationships were life altering, it's still too soon after coming back into each other’s lives to invite something more. The physical side of our relationship was never the problem, it was the communication, the trust, and jealousy that did us in. We might both be older and more mature; years past the trauma that defined us then, but the shadows of it still haunt us and need to be dealt with. 

It was cruel of me to ask that of him. It would have been hard, no pun intended, for me to miss the erection that pressed into my ass last night when he pulled me into his lap or the one that was nestled against my ass this morning. The thought passes through my mind that I could offer to take care of that for him, but that definitely sends the wrong signal. 

The truth of the matter is that I don’t know what I want anymore. Seeing Logan, being with him, I can’t deny that I’m still in love with him. Everything about him makes me feel more like myself, like I’m waking up from some long boring dream. But I don’t know how he feels and honestly, how would that even work? While I may not be excited about becoming a full-time lawyer, I am good at it and my dad is so excited. Do I just pick up a life I’ve put together for myself here and move back across the country? Would he even want me to? Absolutely not fair of me to ask for more from Logan at this point. Of course, if I spend too much more time in his bed, I’m not sure how I’ll resist taking that new body for a test drive. 

I stare in the mirror, delaying the inevitable discussion we need to have. _Why can’t it ever just be easy for us?_

When I can’t delay any longer, I make my way back to the bedroom we shared last night. Logan has laid back down, his head under the pillow, bare back on display. I take in the muscles, wishing I had the right to run my fingers over them. Making note of the scars still visible, I walk towards the bed quietly. As I sit on the edge, Logan’s muffled voice comes from under the pillow.

“Coming back to bed?”

I shake my head, but realize he can’t see me. “No, if you want to do that run, we should probably get up and get a move on. I’m going to get dressed.” He pulls his head out from under the pillow, his intelligent brown eyes scrutinizing my face. Being the perceptive man he is, he can tell there’s more that I’m not saying, but decides not to push it right now. He starts to get up and I quickly retreat from the room before he can change his mind. 

Fifteen minutes later finds us both dressed for a run. I grab the keys to the condo and my phone, following him out into the hallway. Locking the door, I turn towards the elevator, noting that once again he pales, his breathing harsh. I cut him off before he can suggest again that we take the stairs. I might run five miles a day, but I’ll be damned if I’m walking twenty stories of steps up or down for something he won’t even explain to me. I let it go last night, but I’m getting an answer today. Now.

“Logan.” My voice holds a warning. He’s not getting out of this. “What is your problem with elevators? You used to take them all the time when you lived at the Grande.”

He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. “That’s why.” My eyes scrinch in confusion and I level a slight glare at him. 

“That makes no fucking sense.” I’m trying to remain calm, but he’s pissing me off. I thought he wanted us to be honest with one another, but he’s being evasive. 

Logan leans against the hallway wall, one foot planted on the wall, arms crossed. It’s not exactly a defensive position, but it’s definitely not an open one. _Thank you psych degree._ I reach for one of his hands and he lets me pull it away from his body, his gaze fixed on the floor. We stand there silently for a minute until he finally sighs. 

“You’re not letting this go.” He rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re not.” An exasperated sigh escapes him. “It started after you left. When I realized you weren’t coming back, it came on out of the blue. I was still living at the Grande, but was looking for another place. Everything was normal, I left the suite, walked to the elevator, hit the button. Perfectly normal. The doors opened, and it hit me out of nowhere. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I was sweating and my body was frozen. I thought I was having a heart attack. My vision got really blurry, but I managed to stumble back to the suite figuring if I was going to die, I might as well do it in my room and not on an elevator where anyone could find me. As I got further away from the elevator, the pressure in my chest eased. I collapsed in the suite and that’s when the visions came.” He pauses, glancing at me through his lashes. I squeeze his hand lightly telling him to continue without words. “Not visions, memories, I guess. They just kept repeating. Your face as you got on the elevator after you found me with Kendall. The doors opening and you kissing Piss. Looking back at you after we broke up the last time. Knowing I couldn’t fix what I broke. That you weren’t coming back to me.” His voice breaks, tears streaming down his face. He pulls his hand from mine, wiping at his cheeks. 

Tears fill my eyes and I try to recapture his hand, but he flinches and I drop my hand to my side. “Logan.”

“No Veronica, no. Let me get this out.” He takes a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to get on an elevator unless absolutely necessary since. I don’t fully understand it, but it’s like elevators are my own personal hell. Absolutely nothing good has come from me getting on them or getting off of them. I’ll try for you, but it’s hard.” He takes a shaky breath finally lifting his head to look at me. 

I move my hand slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to push me away, finally reaching his face. I wipe the remaining tears from his cheeks. Raising up on my tiptoes, I kiss him softly on his cheek. His eyes widen, but I lower my feet to the ground putting some space between us. 

“You win, we can take the stairs.” He laughs shortly and shakes his head. 

“It’s fine. It’s not so bad when you’re with me.” I can tell he’s lying, but he holds out his hand for mine. When I place my hand on his, he entangles our fingers together and pulls me gently towards the elevator. “Just stay with me.”

_Stay with me. Is that for now or forever?_ I nod, unable to formulate words in the face of his honesty. Rarely has he been so open or vulnerable in front of me. He’s truly grown up. 

We hold hands the entire ride though I notice that he is holding his breath. I squeeze his hand reassuringly and he pulls me closer to him so our sides touch. He lets go of my hand as soon as we’re off the elevator, his eyes darting around to assess any threats. Satisfied that we’re still relatively safe, he allows me to take the lead for our run. We start off slowly, but I can’t help but want to show off. My competitive nature coming to the forefront. 

Very quickly I realize that this is a game I’m not going to win. Logan wasn’t kidding when he said five miles was his warm up. After two miles, most of it sprinting to keep up with his longer legs, I’m starting to get winded. I know that if I don’t slow down, there’s no way I’m making it up the steps and then to the restaurant I have in mind for breakfast. Logan, by contrast, is barely breathing heavy and looks ready to go for another twenty miles. He glances back at me when I start to slow down. He tries to slow his own pace to stay with me, but eventually starts to jog backwards egging me on. 

“Come on Mars. I thought you ran every day.” He tosses out teasingly, glancing over his shoulder as he jogs backwards making sure his way is still clear. I am breathing too heavy for speech so I just flip him the bird. He laughs and turns around to run up the steps. I lag behind him, but make it up the steps to find him doing the rocky pose. I pull out my phone, walking slowly to catch my breath, before taking a picture of him by the statue. His grin is huge, making his face look almost boyish. I set the picture as my screensaver. He offers to take a picture of me, but I wave him off. 

“Ready for breakfast?” He’s jogging in place, keeping his heart rate elevated. Still too winded to speak I nod and point in the direction of the restaurant. It’s only another mile and then I can sit down and get some much needed coffee. _I’m going to have to work a lot harder to keep up with Logan in the future._ The thought surprises me since I haven’t really given much thought to a future beyond the next few days. I just know that I want him to stay in my life somehow. I just assumed that it would be a phone and email kind of relationship so it surprises me that I’m thinking about the next time we run together. 

We take it slower on our way to the restaurant and walk the last two blocks as a cool down. I direct Logan to the line and we do some stretches as we wait to be seated at Honey’s Sit n Eat. 

“What’s so special about this place that you’re willing to stand in line for almost 30 minutes?” Logan asks as he pulls his leg up in a hamstring stretch. 

“Besides really great coffee?” He nods. “They do this thing called a breakfast bomb that is to die for.”

He smiles as I enthuse about the food. Finally we’re seated and we both order coffee and a breakfast bomb. 

“So we’ll be at Mike’s tonight?” Logan pours cream into his coffee and offers the tiny jug to me. I nod and he pours in just the right amount. 

“Yeah, it will take us a few hours to get there from the DC, but we should arrive around eight or so depending on when we catch the train from here.” 

“Then what?” His brow furrows. 

“I guess I call my dad? Catch him up on what’s going on and we try to figure out what Mercer’s plan is besides bringing us back together?” I shrug. I’m not really sure where to go from here. Running away and hiding seemed like the best course of action after everything we learned yesterday. I don’t even know where to start. A thought occurs to me and I voice it out loud to Logan. “Why now? He’s been out of jail for at least two years. What changed that he’s coming after us now?”

Logan shrugs. “Hell if I know. Maybe he got tired of waiting? I don’t really speak fluent sociopath these days.”

“Your language of choice was always psychotic jackass, not sociopath.” The smile that splits my face is huge. Logan returns it but then a shadow crosses his face and he frowns. 

“No, that was my father’s language.” His voice is quiet and he’s looking down at his food as if it holds all the answers. 

I put my hand on top of his. “You’re nothing like him. You never were.” He smiles shyly at me and intertwines our fingers. Turning the conversation back to our current trauma I think about why now. My nose scrunches as I try to think of a reason. “Maybe he just got tired of waiting? Or maybe it took him this long to find a way to infiltrate our lives?”

Logan looks pensive. “So if he’s infiltrated, which by the clues he’s left seems like as good a theory as any we’ve got, then it stands to reason he’s working through someone one of us is in contact with. Someone who knows our history. I mean I barely remember what I said to Gorya that day in the cafeteria. That was pretty specific to get you to think I was in danger.”

“There were like sixty people there that day though. Anyone of them could be the originator of that piece of information.” I flip through my memories of that day, but honestly other than Piz, Gorya, and Logan I can’t really name another person who was there. My focus was solely on Logan, I barely even registered Piz until Logan left and I saw his crestfallen expression. “Did you ever talk about it with anyone?”

“Not likely, except maybe Dick. I can’t say for sure since so much of that time is a blur, but it really doesn’t sound like something I would do. I’m not much for talking about anything personal and even before I realized that you weren’t coming back,” He shudders in remembrance and I make a mental note to ask him how he did find out, later. It’s not relevant to our current situation, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn't want to know everything about him, even the bad. “I was pretty much keeping everything about you very close. As I learned from Parker, not many women want to take a chance on you when you’re still crazy in love with your ex.”

Past tense. I guess I knew that he was in love with me still after we broke up, but it never really registered. He moved on so quickly with Parker and he seemed to be really happy with her. That didn’t exactly scream ever lasting love. Then again, I really was only seeing what I wanted to see back then, too scared to trust that he really loved me. I had so many stupid ideas back then about life and love. It cost me so much. 

“Well, I didn’t talk about it with anyone until just the other night when I told Mike what you had said. I had told him about that last day at Hearst and the fight, of course, but not the words you said when Gorya threatened you. I hadn’t even thought about them until I got that note and the photos.” I shake my head, feeling like there’s a piece I’m missing, but it’s just out of my reach. “I think that quote might be a dead end for now. So the hair. Obviously you knew since you found me and I knew, but other than that the only ones I know for sure are Mercer and Moe. I never told Mike, Wallace, Mac or even my dad about Moe shaving off some of my hair to give Mercer an alibi.”

A shadow passes over Logan’s face again and his hand tightens around mine. “What?” He shakes his head. “Logan, please. We’re in this together, we need to be honest with each other.”

“It’s just…” He trails off, his eyes shifting to focus on the ceiling as he blows out a breath. “Mercer used me to get to you for his alibi. Yet he still had Moe drug and attack you. He knew I had asked you to help him. I guess he was just getting desperate. It just never made sense to me.”

“I think if someone, even me, had looked into his alibi a little more it would have been easy to discredit. The only reason I thought the radio show schedule was a solid alibi is because Piz told me it was a call in show. He didn’t seem to think that it could have been pre-recorded.” I shrug at how naive I was back then even when I thought I knew everything. It probably didn’t help that I was more focused on what Logan wouldn’t tell me and why.

“You never told me that.” His lips pinch at the corners in a frown.

“I never told you what?” 

“That Piss had told you that it couldn’t be pre-recorded.” I level a glare at him. Piz and I might not be together anymore and he’s been working my last nerve, but he’s still my friend. Logan smirks, unrepentant.

“I had no reason to question Piz, he worked at the station.” I stress the z in Piz’s name. 

Logan shrugs telling me without words that he could give zero fucks about what his name is. “Piss could have known him. He could be another Moe. Never struck me as the strongest of people.” Oh fun, the psychotic jackass is making another appearance. 

“I highly doubt that. Mercer and Piz didn’t have much in common.” My eyes tighten as I think about what Mercer and Logan had in common back then. It still irks me, but its stupid really. Logan was a kid, he wasn’t really doing anything a million other college students weren’t doing.

“Did Moe and Mercer have a lot in common then?” He raises an eyebrow. My mouth drops open on a gasp as I realize he’s right. Moe and Mercer had nothing in common. Their master/pet relationship was created during that stupid prison experiment in a sociology class. Still that doesn’t mean Piz would have been involved. The more likely answer is that he just didn’t know that Mercer was pre-recording the shows. I say as much to Logan, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

“What would Piz have to gain by working with Mercer? I was already dating him.” I leave off the fact that while we did have separate bedrooms, we had had sex this time around. Logan's eyes narrow as he hears what I’m not saying. I shrug. _What, I’m not a saint and I was dating him._

Logan decides not to fight me on this, though I can tell this topic may come up again. 

“Well, we’ve really made a lot of progress haven’t we?” His voice drips with sarcasm. 

“Yeah, as much as I hate to say it, I think that we’re going to have to wait until he makes his next move.” I frown at the thought as I stare intently into Logan’s eyes. 

Logan balls his free hand into a fist, his shoulders tight. I recognize it as his “I’m going to kick someone’s ass” stance. I stroke the fingers of the hand I’m holding trying to calm him down. He takes a deep breath and releases his fist, but his shoulders remain stiff. 

“What if his next move is his final move? He obviously wanted us to be together for this. That doesn’t really bode well for either of us.” He rubs his thumb over my knuckles and a shiver runs up my spine. His eyes are dark and intense as he gazes at me.

“I don’t have an answer Logan.” My voice comes out high pitched, my anxiety and fears leaking through. “I know as much as you do at this point, but without anything but the original note and the hair, I don’t know what we should do.” I wave over our waitress to ask for the check as I pull out the cash I keep behind my phone case. We should really get a move on. 

Logan pushes my money away, pulling out his own cash and handing it to the waitress. The camaraderie between us that we forged during our run is gone and we’re back to the awkward feeling. Logan suggests jogging back to the condo, but I’m suddenly exhausted. This is all too much. How did I do this constantly back in high school and college? The stress, the unknowns, it’s all weighing on me until I feel like I just want to scream. Why did I think this was fun?

We decide to walk, trying to enjoy the weather, but after two blocks of Logan constantly scanning for threats, and I ask to take a cab back. He agrees, letting out a small sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing a little. 

Back at the condo, we’re faced with the elevator yet again, but this time, Logan just grasps my hand and pulls me close to him. I wrap an arm around his waist, leaning into him and he smiles down at me. Off the elevator, he scans the hallways before leading the way to the condo. As he checks the deadbolt, he mutters something about the military.

“What did you say?” I quirk an eyebrow at him and his lips twist in his trademark smirk. 

“I was just thinking that this is all like the military. Hurry up and wait. There was this rush to get us together and now we’re just waiting to see what happens.” He frowns. “I really don’t like waiting.”

He looks so put upon that it makes me laugh. “And I’m the queen of Patienceville?” 

“No, you’re more like Cindy Lou Who.” He chuckles as he bops me on the nose with his finger. I give him my best “don’t mess with me” stare, but it only makes him laugh harder. “I make a short joke and get your meanest looks, but Mike calls you Pixie constantly and you don’t bat an eye. Where’s the fairness in that?” 

“Mike earned that nickname, you just like to make fun of my vertical challenges.” It feels good to banter with him. Less like our lives are in mortal danger, more like us being us. We really did have some good times together. I sigh as the sadness of our current relationship washes over me again. I really messed up a good thing and it's one of my biggest regrets. 

Logan gazes at me intently, his velvet eyes scrutinizing every inch of my face. His finger traces from my forehead to my chin. I hold my breath. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, it’s not my favorite. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to phrase what I’m thinking. “I don’t know. It’s everything, Mercer, you, me. I’m just overwhelmed I think. It’s a lot to process. Everything in my life is just so unsettled right now and I’m feeling really lost.” Another sad sigh escapes my throat. I shift my gaze so I can’t see his eyes. His compassion and understanding aren’t something I can handle right now. My voice is barely a whisper as I continue trying to explain. “I don’t know who I am anymore. This, trying to solve a mystery, it seems right, but it also seems wrong.” I risk a glance back up. Logan’s mouth is open and his eyes seem watery. I expected a lot of reactions to my confession, but this wasn’t one of them. 

He clears his throat. “Veronica.” I hold his gaze, waiting for him to say something else, but he remains silent. After a few seconds, I break away. 

“I’m just going to go get a shower.” I toss over my shoulder as I head to the bathroom. Inside, I turn on the water to a near scalding temperature. I don’t know why I opened up like that. It’s not something I would normally do, not even with Mike. Usually Mike has to pull that sort of information out of me. It’s just that Logan is special and I want to be completely honest with him. I know that I hurt him a lot in the past and I don’t want there to be any confusion between us. I’m still hoping for something. 

As I step into the shower, I try to figure out what I want. Career, future, Logan. It’s all a blurry picture at this point. Become a lawyer, go back to investigating. Stay in New York, move back to California. These aren’t my only choices, but decisions elude me nonetheless. As for Logan...I want him. Not just as my friend, though I’ll take that if that’s all I can have, but as my love. I want him to be the one I come home to, the one I share my life with. It’s more than physical, it's a soul deep connection that’s been there since the day we met. He’s my other half and all these years without him, I’ve just been stumbling around, half a person. Being with him, even with all the uncertainty, I feel complete, at home in my skin again. It’s amazing and terrifying. 

Now I just have to keep us both alive and then maybe we can explore what he wants as well. 

_**Logan POV** _

I watch Veronica run. Technically, I guess she’s walking to the bathroom, but it feels like she’s running. What she said yesterday about us moving one step forward and four steps back rings true to me in that moment. She was finally opening up, letting herself be vulnerable, and then she shut down and ran. Someday I’m going to fill that girl’s boots with cement so she can’t run from me. 

She caught me off guard. I’m still trying to reconcile the girl I once knew with the woman that she’s become. The girl I knew wouldn’t have been that honest with me. She was always in control, always knew where she was going and what she was doing. This woman, though, has insecurities that she’s not afraid to show. She isn’t sure what she’s doing and is willing to admit that she doesn’t have all the answers. It’s such a change that I’m struggling to keep up. 

The condo only has one shower, so I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and flop down on the couch. I take a swig of water, my eyes trained on the bathroom door. After putting the water down on the coffee table, careful to use a coaster cause manners, I rub my hands over my face. Honestly I’m feeling overwhelmed. There’s so much to process and my emotions are all over the place. Not to mention the haywire of hormones rocketing through my body everytime I see or think about her. Knowing she’s naked fifteen feet away from me right this minute really doesn’t help. 

I lean my head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm my rioting thoughts. I need her, I want her, but I don’t even know her anymore. Nothing is clear. I really called it when I said no one writes songs about the easy ones. If I had known how prophetic that whole speech would become, I never would have said it. _God I was such a drama queen back then._ I let out a heavy sigh. The only thing I know for sure is that I feel connected to her. It’s more than physical, although she still is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. This connection goes to the very marrow of my bones. There’s a rightness to us being with one another that I’ve never felt with anyone else, not Carrie, not even Lilly. When I’m near her, I feel..home. She’s the other half of me. Surely that ought to be enough to overcome this awkward place we find ourselves in. 

The shower turns off and I try to distract myself from thoughts of her naked and wet, combing through that silky hair. Dammit. The harder I try to not think about her, the more I do. It’s like a perverted version of if you give a mouse a cookie. I shift on the couch, my cock is hard to the point of pain. It doesn’t help that I spent the night with her in my arms, that lucious ass pressed up against me. I knew when I agreed to share the bed with her that it was going to be torture, but this is just getting ridiculous. I need to take care of this before I do something completely stupid and freak her out more than she already is. Now is not the time to push for a physical relationship even if my body is screaming for it. It might be easier if I didn’t already know that it would be some of the best sex of my life. I’ve slept with a lot of people over the years, but Veronica, even inexperienced, was on a whole other level. I don’t know how to describe it exactly. It was part the intimacy of being in love and part just physical. 

The bathroom door opens and she comes out with her wet hair in a messy bun. She’s changed into a pair of dark skinny jeans tucked into a pair of black boots paired with a silky sapphire blue v-neck top that makes her eyes sparkle. There is absolutely no way to hide my continued reaction to her in my running shorts so I don’t bother as I get up to make my way to the shower. A shower that I desperately need at this point to keep myself from ripping those clothes from her body with my teeth, seeing if she still tastes like honey. I skirt around her, keeping my eyes on the floor. She moves out of my way clearing the path so we don’t accidentally touch. 

Once safely in the bathroom, I shed my clothes, debating whether to take a cold shower or indulge in taking care of things myself. On the one hand, the cold shower will tamp down my erection, it’s a proven method, but one I’ve found that only works until I’m once again faced with Veronica in all her splendor. Taking care of it seems skeezy though since she’s just a few feet away and I doubt she missed the extreme tenting of my shorts. Finally, the memory of the way the blue of her shirt lit up her eyes decides me. I just have to make it quick. 

For the second time in two days, I allow myself to indulge in the memories and fantasies of Veronica. Standing under the hot stream of water, I imagine her joining me, her alabaster skin glistening with moisture. I take myself in hand, stroking slowly up and down, building the scene in my head. Her body up against mine, slick skin sliding against one another. Her soft breasts brushing against my chest, her arms around my neck. _Oh god._ My strokes speed up as a I think about the way she scratches her fingernails over the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. My heart is beating a samba against my ribs as I picture kneeling down in front of her, lifting her leg to my shoulder. I slowly lick up her center, pausing to flick my tongue against her clit before running my tongue back down, teasing her. I add a twist as I continue to stroke my cock, mimicking the move Veronica always did when she rode me. As I work my way back up to her clit, sucking gently, I can feel my balls start to tighten. 

I lean against the shower wall, my one hand still pumping, bringing me closer and closer while I rest my head against the other on the wall. Somewhere in my head is the thought that I can’t finish before her, but my body is not listening to me and I come hard, my mouth firmly sucking on her clit in my mind. 

“Fuck, Veronica, fuck.” I have enough presence of mind to not shout, my voice coming out in a whisper. I stay leaning trying to catch my breath. When the haze clears my eyes, I quickly clean up and leave the shower. I forgot to grab clothes so I attempt to quietly make my way back to the bedroom wearing only a towel. 

After I’m dressed, I pack up the little I pulled out of my bag and head to the living room. Veronica is sitting on the couch looking at something on her phone. 

“Anything good?” My voice is light. I feel less tense now that I’ve relieved some of the pressure our close proximity created. Veronica looks up at me and smirks at me knowingly. 

“Good shower?” She doesn’t even bother to acknowledge my question. I can feel heat rising to my cheeks. I’ve never been shy or self-concious before when it comes to sex, but knowing that she knows I was just maturbating in there is a bit embarrassing. I try to cover it up by reverting to my tried and true methods, snark. 

“Would have been better if you had joined me.” I give her my best lascivious smirk, waggling my eyebrows at her. Now it’s her turn to blush and she looks away quickly. “Seriously though, what’s got your attention there?”

“I was just looking at the time tables for the trains to DC. It’s 11 now, but if we hurry we can probably catch the Acela express at 12:30. Are you about ready to go?” She hands me the phone to show me our options. I nod in answer to her question, pointing to my bag. “Great, let me grab my toothbrush and we can head out. It’s a bit far for a walk so we’ll need to take a cab.” 

“Okay. Are you going to let Mike know when to expect us?” 

“I was actually thinking it would be better if he didn’t know and we just met him at the DC house.” She says as she walks towards the bathroom. 

“Any particular reason?” She had said the phones were safe. A shiver of fear runs up my spine. 

“No, I just want to be extra cautious. We don’t know what they know about you, me or Mike. If they know about Mike then it’s possible he’s being watched. This way we can see slip in and scope things out before anyone knows where we are. If need be, we’ll change our plans if he is being watched.” I make note of her use of the word they. 

“So you think Mercer has an accomplice then?” She didn’t seem like she was fully bought into that theory when we last spoke about it. Not dismissive, just not willing to lock in anything without more information. 

“It makes sense doesn’t it? There’s no other way that he would know so much about us back then or even now. I’m fairly certain that my dad didn’t book your hotel in your name even if the concierge did know it.” From what I remember of her lectures on staying under the radar back in college this definitely tracks. “Besides it doesn’t hurt for us to operate with an overabundance of caution. We both know that Mercer is out for blood or worse. I’d like to keep us both safe so we can figure a few things out.”

My mouth drops open in shock. Did Veronica Mars just allude to figuring things out with me? I shut my mouth with a snap, breathing in through my nose to calm my wildly beating heart. She could just mean being friends. I shouldn’t read too much into it. 

_Oh dammit, I want to read into it. I want to know if I have a chance with her. I’m tired of tiptoeing around the topic._ But now is probably not the best time. We have a train to catch. Once we’re safely on the train, then I can bring it up. Just a little longer. And maybe my patience will pay off with my greatest dream coming true. Just a little longer.

I just need to keep her safe so I can make her mine again. 


	16. Chapter 16

_**Logan POV** _

The trip to the train station proves uneventful. We catch a cab easily outside the condo. Even the elevator ride wasn’t so bad. It seems having her hold my hand while we ride, keeps the panic at bay. Makes sense, since so much of it is centered around her and our past. 

Once at the 30th street station, Veronica walks briskly to the ticket counter, asking for two tickets on the 12:30 Acela. When the teller asks if we want a business class or coach ticket, Veronica glances at me briefly before deciding on business class. 

“We’ll have more privacy.” She mutters when I raise an eyebrow at her. I guess I’m not the only one who wants to talk on this trip. She keeps surprising me. I’m going to have to thank Mike when I see him because I’m sure it's his influence that has her willing to be open with me. This is the Veronica I always wanted, back when we were in college. I saw glimpses, but then she would wrap that armor around her and I would feel crushed under its weight. Now, it’s like she’s finally letting me in. I only hope I’m worthy. I know in the past I wasn’t, but I really have grown up a lot in the past eight years. I hope she sees that. 

Since we have twenty minutes before the train starts boarding, Veronica suggests we grab some snacks for the impending ride. We wander through one of the convenience stores in the station, picking out random things, avoiding any real conversation. It’s different than it was yesterday. Most of the awkwardness is gone and we’re just us, laughing and bantering back and forth like we used to do before everything went to shit. Still, I don’t lower my guard, and my eyes are continually scanning for anyone that seems suspicious. 

When we are seated in business class, a heavy sigh slips from Veronica. I turn in my seat to gaze into her eyes, trying to discern what she’s thinking. Her nose scrunches up slightly as she frowns. 

“Can we not?” Her voice sounds tired. 

“Not what?” I smile shyly at her, already guessing that she’s gone beyond her limit for heavy conversations today. She may be more open, but she’s still Veronica and talking about feelings always seemed to exhaust her. 

“Do that thing where we hash out everything. I don’t have any answers. We’re here, we’re together, can this not just be enough for right now? I feel like we’re focusing on the wrong things when we need to focus on stopping whatever Mercer has planned for us.” She softens her words by taking my hand and intertwining our fingers. I never could tell her no, and given how much effort she’s taken to be honest with me, I need to give back and take care of her needs too. I nod and give her fingers a light squeeze. 

“We have time.” I smile brightly at the thought and she returns my smile. We sit in silence, just enjoying being near one another for a while. Finally, Veronica breaks the silence, offering me a bottle of water from our bag of snacks. 

I figure this means she’s recharged enough to at least talk again. “So psych degree? What made you decide that?” I figure it should be an easy enough topic, but her eyes tighten as she frowns. 

“You know the saying those who can, do, those who can’t, teach?” I nod, wondering where she’s going with this. “I guess my decision to study psych was the same. I’ve always had problems expressing my emotions, understanding why people do the things they do. I guess I was looking for a way to understand. Plus, it’s a great degree for those looking to go into law. You’d be amazed at how all those classes on how people think help when you’re trying to pick a jury. What about you? I know you’re a fighter pilot, but when I left Hearst, you were still undecided.”

“Well, I was going to major in English. Even went as far to declare it at the beginning of my sophomore year, but then with everything…” I pause, not wanting to get back into my spiral. “To be a Naval aviator you need a more technical degree. So I switched halfway through sophomore year, which was a total bitch cause I had to do all these extra classes to still graduate on time. Anyway, I ended up majoring in aerospace engineering. I figured if the pilot thing didn’t work out, I could always work designing planes.”

Her mouth is slightly open while processing this. “Logan, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you. You were always so smart and I just knew if you found something you loved, you could do it.” 

I duck my head, avoiding her gaze as she praises me. It means the world to me that she’s proud of me, but even after becoming a decorated Naval aviator, I’m still not comfortable with compliments. She places her free hand on my cheek, gently lifting my head. Her eyes are glassy with tears as she leans forward. My eyes widen in shock as her lips softly touch mine. 

It’s a chaste kiss that leaves my head swimming. “Really Logan, I’m proud of you.” I struggle for words, but finally just nod, my eyes gazing at her lips. _Can I kiss her again?_ My lips are tingling from her touch. I desperately want to pull her back to me, like that day at the Camelot, our first kiss. Her lips against mine and my world seemed to make sense finally, like my eyes had been closed all that time and suddenly I could see and it was her. Always her. She leans back in her seat, shutting her eyes. 

“Veronica.” My voice is hoarse. She shakes her head. 

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry. We still have so much to talk about and I really am tired. Please, I want to talk, but I just need some time.” Her voice is soothing, but her eyes are pinched with exhaustion. 

“Yeah, it can wait. Why don’t you try to take a nap?” She smiles gratefully at me and leans her head on my shoulder. I push a strand of hair that’s fallen forward behind her ear, earning another small smile. 

“I hate what brought us together, but I’m glad you’re here.” Her voice is a whisper. 

“Me too.” _I’m never letting her go again._

The train ride is uneventful, and I spent most of it alternating between watching the scenery go by and watching Veronica sleep. When we arrive in DC, Veronica leads us out to the cabs giving an address to the driver. I’ve only ever been to DC once, so I’m not really familiar with the area we’re going to. Our conversation is light, but there’s a heaviness around us, as if we’re coming to the end of our time together. I can’t believe that it’s only been two days. Two days after almost nine years apart, yet it feels like we haven’t been apart that long. Maybe it’s because everything that’s happened without her seems like the dream and this, having her with me, is reality. 

The cab pulls up to a school with residential town homes all around. I wonder which one is Mike’s but Veronica says nothing. She grabs her bag and waits for me to pay the cab fare. Veronica begins walking as soon as the cab has pulled away from the curb, glancing around to be sure nothing is out of the ordinary. Finally after a block, we arrive at a house on a corner. She has a small smile on her face as she looks up at the house. Obviously this is another place with positive memories for her. I follow her up the stairs to the porch and wait while she digs a key out of her purse. Inside, she ducks into a closet to turn off the alarm and reset it for stay. I look around the foyer, impressed by the way Mike has made this house so homey. I’m not much for real estate but even I know that a house this size in DC is worth a pretty penny, but instead of feeling like a mausoleum like my parents' house always did, this one has a warm, cozy feeling. As Veronica leads me into the gourmet kitchen, I can imagine nights with friends sitting at the island, cooking, laughing, living. My eyes tighten as I frown, thinking about how this is another part of her life I’ve missed. 

Veronica goes to the fridge and pulls out a couple bottles of water, handing me one. 

“Is Mike here?” I didn’t notice her texting him and unlike in New York, she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to find him. 

“Oh, he’s probably downstairs.” Her voice is light, like she shed a weight when she crossed the threshold. I don’t know if that’s the memories of this place or the fact that she’s back with Mike again. He seems to have a calming effect on her, one that still drives me insanely jealous. It’s a weird feeling to be simultaneously grateful and jealous. 

She puts her water down and beckons for me to follow her to a door I didn’t notice before. As we walk downstairs, I can hear music playing, volume increasing the closer we get to the end of the stairs. Veronica opens a door and inside the room is a baby grand piano. Mike is sitting there playing, completely focused on the music. We stand silently listening for a few minutes until he finishes the piece. It’s not one I recognize, not that I’m any connoisseur of classical music. As he finishes, Veronica walks to him and places a hand on his shoulder. He looks up with a bright smile and is rewarded with one from Veronica.

“That’s really coming along.” Her eyes are glassy and she wipes a hand to clear a stray tear. 

“It’s not perfect yet, but I don’t hate it.” He laughs self-deprecating and Veronica lightly punches his arm. “It’s about time you got here, Pixie-chick. I was getting ready to send out the calvary.”

“Sorry, we got a later start than I expected.” Mike raises an eyebrow and Veronica shakes her head, laughing. “This one wanted to run the steps.”

They both laugh and I join in. It feels good to be included in their little duo. Mike gets up from the piano and greets me. 

“Good to see you again, man. Hope she wasn’t too much trouble.” 

“No more than she usually is.” Veronica huffs in irritation. 

“So are we staying here for a bit or heading straight to the cabin?” I feel uncomfortable staying in one place too long. 

“I should call my dad before we head out, but otherwise, I don’t think we should delay. I didn’t see anyone watching this place, but I’ll feel better once we’re back on the road where it’s easier to lose someone.” 

“I have no issue either way.” Mike nods his agreement and starts to head upstairs. 

“Why don’t you use the office to call your dad and I’ll give Logan a tour of the house.” Mike suggests once we’re upstairs again. “Obviously this is the dining room and I’m sure you’ve seen the kitchen since that’s Pixie’s favorite spot in the entire house.” He smirks and Veronica sticks her tongue out.

Mike continues his tour, Veronica tagging along until we get to the office where she stays behind to call her dad. I follow Mike while he shows me the guest rooms and library, complete with ladder. I would love to just stay here for days and reluctantly continue following Mike with a heavy sigh. He takes me to the 3rd floor, which houses the master bedroom before we join Veronica in the office again. She’s still on the phone with her dad, but motions us to come in. We both sit on the comfy couch in the corner, watching her pace as she tells her dad the current situation. 

“I don’t know why. Yes, we’re being careful. We’re headed to Mike’s cabin in West Virginia. You have the number. A few days. He knows I’m with Logan. Because it didn’t concern him. Don’t worry about that, I’ll be back before the exam, I’m sure. I have my books with me too so I can get some studying done.” She rolls her eyes at something he says. “Dad, it’s not his fault. He didn’t _do_ anything.”

Clearly Keith is not happy about me being there. I notice Mike giving me a sympathetic glance and I shrug my shoulders. One thing at a time. Veronica is getting more agitated as she listens to Keith. 

“Dad, stop. You really need to get over this. I told you I don’t know. Nothing has happened. Look, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now I just need you to do your thing and see if you can find anything out about where Mercer is these days and who he might be associating with. Enlist Mac’s help.”

Finally, they end their call with Veronica telling him that she loves him and she’ll stay safe. 

“Sorry about that. He’s going to do some research and see what he can find out. I told him that we were going to the cabin, but to only call the number in an emergency. I’ll check in with him daily, but I want to keep it separate from the cabin in case someone is watching him.” There’s a lot she’s not saying, but neither Mike or I feel the need to call her on it. I’ve always hated how it put her in the middle that her dad didn’t like me. I get that I was a jackass to her and I hurt her, but his hatred of me seemed to go deeper than not liking a fucked up teenage boy. I’m fairly certain he still doesn’t know about the rape or my part in it so I really don’t know what it is. I can only hope that at some point, he’ll give me a chance to prove that I’m not the same guy I once was. 

“Alright, so let’s get on the road.” Mike hops up from the couch, doing a little soft shoe step to lighten the mood and making both Veronica and me laugh. Mike leads the way to a back door that leads to a detached garage. Inside the Audi is parked. Mike gets behind the wheel while Veronica climbs into the backseat behind him. 

“You can sit up front Veronica.” I figure I can take a nap on our way and she would be a better navigator than me anyways.

“No, you have longer legs, you’ll be more comfortable in the front. Besides you’d just complain about my taste in music the whole way otherwise.”

“She’s not wrong.” I smirk at Mike as I slide into the front passenger seat. My foot hits something on the floor and I reach down to retrieve it. A plain white envelope with nothing on the front, not sure if it's important or not, I hand it to Mike. 

“What’s this?” His eyes narrow as he looks at the envelope. 

“Dunno, just found it on the floor.” He rips it open and pulls out a sheet of paper. His face pales when he reads it and hands it to me. 

“You can run, but the story’s ending will be the same.”

Veronica leans over the seat to read over my shoulder. 

“We need to go now.” Her voice is high pitched with fear and her hand claws at my shoulder. 

Mike throws the car into reverse. As we drive away from the house, I look back at Veronica. Standing by the garage is a shadow. It looks like he’s tipping a hat towards us as we speed away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me. 
> 
> Special thanks to my Betas, His_Beautiful_Girl and Bugagoo for all their support and help on this endeavor. I couldn't do it without you.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Piz POV** _

“Hudson, where are you, man? Everything is falling apart. I don’t know what to do here. Call me back.” _Fuck._ _Where the hell is he?_ Piz slams the phone in his hand down on the table before running the same hand through his shorter hair. He has a momentary longing for his longer Beiber style hair, but fucking Beiber had to ruin that for him so he’s stuck with this shorter shit that’s supposed to make him look more mature, before going back to obsessing. Hudson hasn’t been in contact since their last chat session. No amount of attempted chats, emails were looked at or replied to driving him to finally call, and that seems to be a dead end too. Veronica is gone and Echolls with her. _How the hell is he supposed to rid the world of the evil that is Logan fucking Echolls if he doesn’t even know where he is?_ When he and Hudson planned this, it seemed like it would be a piece of cake. Get Logan here, then take him out. Using Veronica to lure him out here seemed like the only way at the time to get him away from his Navy life and his pop star girlfriend. There’s no way he wouldn’t drop everything if he thought Veronica was in danger. 

It was such a straight-foward plan. Veronica would find the note, freak, disappear, then Piz would call in Keith. Keith would look for her, but not knowing about Mike would put him at a disadvantage. Keith would eventually reach out to Echolls hoping he might know where she is or suspect that he had something to do with her disappearance. It seemed solid to use Keith’s continued hatred and distrust of Logan to get him to come running. Of course, that all went to shit when it was Veronica herself who called him. Piz thought for sure that Veronica would try to solve the problem herself and never tell Echolls. While he truly believed that the two were on a collision course at some point in the future, he knew it wouldn’t be Veronica who reached out. No doubt Echolls would find some way to need her help and drag her back into his web. 

Piz was trying to keep that from happening, but Veronica didn’t cooperate. Instead, she called him and didn’t even say anything, apparently. The call that brought Echolls freaked him out enough to call Keith Mars, drop everything and come running across the country. That was not in the plan. Now Piz couldn’t get ahold of the one person who was supposed to be helping him with all of this and he was panicking. 

He knew it wouldn’t take Veronica long to figure out that Gorya Sorenson was sitting in jail in California and in no position to go after Logan. Once she found that out, it was only a matter of time before she started wondering why someone pulled such a mean prank on her and a wondering Veronica was a suspicious Veronica. The second package was meant to throw them off and make them split up. At least that’s what Hudson had told him. Piz had no idea what was actually in it, so complete was his trust in his friend. 

Piz paced through his apartment, trying to calm his thoughts. There had to be a way to fix all of this. First and foremost, he needed to find Veronica and get her away from Echolls. The longer they were together, the more likely it would be that the two would pick up their torn relationship. Even Piz could see how much Echolls loved Veronica when they were in college, though that never stopped him from trying to make her his. The two were like magnets, constantly trying to align until they finally came together with a bang. If Echolls was able to seduce Veronica, Piz would never have a chance with her again. 

Piz stopped pacing abruptly as a thought came to him. Keith Mars. He’d know where Veronica was. Hudson had even said as much. After finally coming to that idea, Piz quickly picked up his phone and arranged to meet up with Keith who was at his hotel. Piz just needed to go to him and remind Keith what a good guy he is and he was sure Keith would help him find Veronica. There was no way Keith Mars would want to risk Veronica going back to Echolls. If he wasn’t such a stand up and moral guy, Piz felt confident that he could have gotten Keith to help get rid of Echolls permanently. 

Keith was on the phone when Piz knocked on his hotel room door twenty minutes later. He held up a finger asking Piz to hold on while he finished his conversation. It was rapidly apparent that Veronica was on the other end of that phone call. 

“Why would Mercer be after you and Logan now? I don’t like this Veronica, are you sure you know what you’re doing, this isn’t high school anymore. Yeah, I have the number for the place in West Virginia. How long are you going to be gone?”

Keith glanced up at Piz before asking “Does Piz know?”

“Well why isn’t he with you? Did something happen between you two? Veronica, you have your exam soon. You’ve worked so hard. I can’t believe Logan’s pulled you into another one of his messes. I just don’t want to see your life derailed because that jackass decided to come back into it now. He had to have done something to get back on Mercer’s radar. I just don’t understand.”

Piz keeps a concerned look on his face as Keith glances at him again. Keith walks to the bathroom, closing the door, but Piz quietly follows, hoping to hear the rest of the conversation. Thankfully, while the hotel is nicer than the one Keith put Logan in, the walls and doors are paper thin. 

Piz can clearly hear Keith’s side of the conversation. “Are you and Logan back together? Is that why you left Piz behind? Why do I hear a yet in your voice? Are you thinking about it? Is Logan trying to convince you to get back on that roller coaster? Fine, I’ll drop it for now, but we’re going to talk about this. What do you need me to do? Alright, I’ll call Mac. We’ll find out what he’s been up to all this time. Just be careful, Veronica. I’ll call the cabin when I know anything. I love you. Bye.”

Hearing Keith wrap up his call, Piz quickly moves away from the bathroom, taking his place by the main door once again. As Keith comes out, Piz tries for a sad puppy dog look, hoping to garner sympathy from Keith. 

“Is she okay?” His voice breaks as he blinks back tears. Keith smiles wanly at the boy who loves his daughter. 

“She’s okay. She said you and her are taking a break.” Piz wants to snort, but instead shifts his eyes down to the floor and shrugs. 

“I think she’s just overwhelmed. It’s got to be a lot to get a threat and then see Logan after so long. I’m sure she just needs to process a few things.” _He deserves a fucking oscar for this role_. _Take that Logan Fucking Echolls, son of movie stars._ “I just wish I knew where she was so we could work through this together. I know how hard it is for her to say no to Logan.”

There, let Keith think Echolls is a destructive influence on Veronica. Sticking close to the truth is always best. Keith’s brow furrows while frowning at the thought of Logan getting his hands on Veronica again. 

Piz presses his advantage. “I couldn’t help but hear that she’s in West Virginia somewhere. Is she alone with him?”

“No, her friend Mike is there too.” Keith is still frowning, but his eyes narrow as he tries to work something out. 

“Do you know where the place is? I know she needs to think things through, but I don’t think Logan will let her. He’s going to tie her up and get her questioning everything before he leaves her and goes back to his pop star girlfriend. I just want to help her.” 

“I don’t. Stosh, it’s probably best to stay out of this. While I don’t like the fact that they’re together I can’t put more people in danger. We don’t know why this guy is going after them now. Veronica needs my help to figure this out, but anyone around them is in danger. She wouldn’t want that for you. I know she cares for you a great deal.” Keith tries to smile reassuringly, but it's unconvincing. 

“Please, Keith. I just don’t want her alone with Logan. What if this is all just some ploy of his to get to her? What if he hurts her?” Piz knows he overshoots his mark when Keith suddenly closes off. _Like father, like daughter._

“Stosh, I don’t like Logan for a lot of reasons and I certainly don’t want him dating my daughter again, but one thing I’m sure of is that he would never hurt her. If anything, he’d sacrifice himself to save her.” Keith’s voice is cold and Piz suppresses a shudder. It was a step too far. Even he knows that despite their past, since Logan fell in love with Veronica Mars, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to protect her. He would rather cut off his own arm than ever lay a finger on Veronica. 

He tries to salvage the conversation. “I’m just so worried about her. Someone is after them and I just want to help.”

Keith's eyes are still narrowed, and Piz tries to give him his best good guy look. “I appreciate that, Piz. I’m going to hang around for a few more days in case she needs me, but for now all we can do is hope they figure this out before this person gets to them.”

Knowing he won’t get anything more from Keith, Piz asks him to let him know if he hears anything else, reiterating how much he cares for the man’s daughter. Keith is polite, but there’s a distinct chill in his demeanor that Piz tries to ignore. Keith Mars loves good guy Stosh Piznarski, it’ll be okay. 

As Piz grabs a cab back to his apartment, he tries chatting Hudson again. 

_From Pizski_

_Dude, where are you? Just talked to Keith Mars. Veronica and Fucking Echolls are headed to some place in West Virginia. What the fuck am I supposed to do?_

At this point Piz doesn’t expect a response, so when his phone chimes with an incoming message alert, he almost drops it on the floor of the cab. He quickly swipes open the phone and reads the message. 

_From: HM2007_

_Sorry, got delayed. I’m here. Are they alone?_

_From: Pizski_

_No, her friend Mike is going too. It's his place._

_From: HM 2007_

_What’s this Mike guy’s last name?_

_From: Pizski_

_Helman, like the mayonnaise._

_From: HM2007_

_Let me talk to a friend. We can probably find the place and we can meet there. You can talk to Veronica and we’ll take care of Echolls_. 

Piz lets out a sigh of relief. His friend is still with him and now they have a direction. 

_From: Pizski_

_Let me know where I’m headed. I’m almost at my place but it won’t take me long to pack up._

Piz pays the cab driver and heads up to his apartment. While he waits for a response from Hudson, he packs a few clothes and toiletries in a bag. Just enough for a couple of days. Finished with that task, he checks his phone, but Hudson hasn’t responded. He wanders into Veronica’s room, walking around lightly touching her things. He’s been in here a few times, but usually Veronica keeps it as her personal sanctuary. Even the few times they’ve had sex, she insisted that they go to his room, and she’s always returned to her own saying she had to get up early and didn’t want to wake him. Now he wonders if he should have pushed harder for her to stay with him all night. Don’t girls like cuddling after sex? Maybe she was too afraid to ask for him to hold her. Of course, he was usually too tired afterwards to put up a fight. 

As he looks around, taking in her scent still lingering in the air, he’s overwhelmed by rage. _Logan Fucking Echolls._ He begins ripping out her drawers, convinced she’s hiding things from him. She acted like she was over him, but the second he comes calling she runs right back to him. In a drawer by her nightstand, he finds a photo album. Inside are pictures of Veronica and Logan. It was hidden beneath books and papers for her bar exam, so the drawer was one that she used frequently. _That lying bitch._ She said he was out of her life forever, but here was proof that she wasn't over him. Why else would she keep photos of him so close to her bed? 

The photo album drops to the floor as Piz lets out a howl of rage. He's going to make Echolls pay. 

His phone pings and he looks at Hudson’s message. 

_From: HM2007_

_10394 Magnolia Rd, Paw Paw WV_

_From: Pizski_

_On my way. Let’s end this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my betas, HBG and Bugaboo.
> 
> And thank you to everyone still reading this story.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

_**Veronica POV** _

After the excitement of our leaving, the car ride itself is fairly mundane. Mike took every precaution on the way out of the city to ensure that we weren’t being followed. Once we hit the Dulles Toll road, he looped off for a bit taking Route 50 before swinging north again on Route 522. 

Logan stays silent while we make our way, visibly upset that Mercer had gotten so close to us. It took the combined efforts of both Mike and I to wheedle him back into a good mood. Mike and I had the benefit of taking this drive many times, and over the years, it was the scene for heart to hearts and silly car games. Logan seems amused by our antics, but his intense eyes never stopped glancing around, ensuring there was no imminent danger. No one wants to ask the question, how did he find us? 

I thought we had been fairly sneaky and yet, there he was waiting for us in DC. I was beginning to wish that he would stop toying with us and just get it over with already. It’s a strange thing to be hoping for a rapist to attack you, but anything had to be better than the waiting. 

After quickly stopping at Omps groceries for some supplies, we finally arrive at the cabin. Mike doesn’t get out here as much as he would like these days, his full client schedule prevents it. However, he does employ a local guy to take care of the house in his absence, keeping up the grounds and making sure the house is ready for when Mike does come. Since Mike never knows when he can get away, the house is kept guest ready at all times. 

Mike parks the Audi in the garage behind the house. He leads us into the house and we pause in the kitchen, putting away the groceries we bought. Mike offers to give Logan a quick tour and show him which room will be his. I trail behind, watching Logan take in the house quietly. This was another property that Mike had let me decorate, and while I never said it out loud, I designed the place with Logan in mind. It was a mix of greens and blues, reminiscent of the ocean that was several thousand miles away. 

When Mike suggested I find an outlet, something to do besides just school, I scoffed at the idea. What was I really going to do since investigating was out? The time before I began working for my dad seems hazy now. I honestly can’t remember having any other interests outside of what Lilly wanted to do, and we were too young for much more than school activities like pep squad and parties with our friends. After numerous conversations with Mike, I realized that one thing I loved about investigating was the organizing of information, pulling together all the pieces of an intellectual puzzle and forming the picture. Somehow that translated to decorating Mike’s houses. It was different, but it makes me happy and gives me a sense of accomplishment. This place though, it's different. All the other places, the townhouse in New York, the beach house in the Hamptons, the condo in Philly, even the house in DC, those were all designed with Mike’s tastes and happiness in mind. 

Something about the cabin screamed Logan to me from the very beginning. It was here that I first opened up to Mike about Logan, sharing everything; the good, the bad, and the ugly. Here is where I first said the words out loud to another living person that I love Logan. In my mind, I’ve always had this fantasy of Logan and I meeting again and everything just magically working between us. We would live together and build a home together. This cabin is what I imagined our home would be like. 

I am very interested to see what he thinks of it, if my fantasy has any bearing in truth. It’s like a litmus test to see if I ever really knew him or if I’ve just built everything up in my mind. If our connection was never anything more than shared trauma and the reason that we never worked was because we weren’t really meant to be. Logan’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, taking in the house. When Mike shows him the room he’ll be sleeping in, Logan inhales on a gasp. This room is normally mine and it, more than anything else in the house, is solely for Logan. Instead of the ocean blues and greens, I used a more neutral palette, warm browns and earth greens. I accented it with orange to give contrast and because it has always been his favorite color. Logan glances at me, but I keep my eyes lowered, afraid to see his reaction. 

“Your work?” His voice is quiet, but with a roughness that belies his emotions. I raise my eyes to meet his intense gaze. I nod shyly, not trusting my voice. It wasn’t a fantasy. If a person can be a room, then this room is Logan. I can see in his eyes his understanding. 

Unsure to how to handle everything swirling up inside of me, I quickly try to change the topic. 

“So is anyone hungry?” My stomach rumbles right on cue, excusing me from any further scrutiny. 

“Are you sure you don’t have a tapeworm Pixie-chick?” Mike’s voice is warm as he teases me. 

“Don’t knock Bert. You’ve got to respect him, man, or he makes her very testy.” Logan’s laugh is like music. It never ceases to amaze me how he can find any joy with all the shit he’s been through. He’s such an amazing person. 

“Bert?” Mike’s eyes crinkle while he laughs along with Logan. “You named it?”

“Yes, Bert. We go way back. After he made her bite me, I decided it was in my best interest to make friends with him.” Logan’s hand spans my stomach, which rumbles again, and he rubs it lightly in circles. I give him a mock glare and slap his hand away.

“I didn’t bite you.” It feels good to banter with him again. I had almost forgotten about Bert and the incident in question that caused my non-existent tapeworm to get its own name. Mike quirks an eyebrow, smelling a story. I shrug, feigning lack of understanding, but Logan keeps laughing. 

“Let’s feed Bert and I’ll tell you how I almost lost a finger to her once upon a time.” His eyes are lighter, the flecks of gold more evident in them and I can’t find it in me to be angry with him. He’s so damn hot when he’s happy and smiling. He has one of those smiles that just warms you. It also makes me want to bite that lower lip and run my hands over his body, turning those laughs into moans and gasps. 

We make our way back to the kitchen and decide on a quick pasta out of deference for Bert. After putting the water on to boil, I sit down on one of the stools around the island, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. Logan pushes a piece of cheese at me from the block he was grating. 

“Here. It’s been at least five hours since you last ate.” My eyes widen in surprise, but he just shrugs. I nibble at the cheese, feeling better already. It’s a little thing, but I can feel my eyes fill with tears that he still notices things like that. When we were dating, he was always careful to ensure I ate something every three hours, knowing how my body ate up energy. Many a time, I would leave a class to find him standing there with a granola bar or a donut. Little things to take care of me. I never appreciated it enough. _Just another thing to regret and miss._

We work together, laughing and sharing stories of cooking disasters. It feels good to be with both of them. Finally, we sit down to eat and Mike turns to Logan with an expectant gaze. 

“So, she bit you?” I hoped that he had forgotten Logan’s promise to tell that story. It wasn’t even all that interesting of a story, though Logan told it wonderfully. 

“She did, though she still denies it.”

“I don’t deny it, I just think it was misinterpreted. I wasn’t trying to bite you, I just wanted that last egg roll.” He rolls his eyes at me and turns back to Mike.

“We were about 12 at the time and hanging out with Lilly and Duncan.” Logan shares these names with an ease, surprising me at how open he is with Mike. After Duncan left, our time before Lilly’s death was off limits by unspoken agreement. Maybe it would have been better if we had focused more on what we had once shared rather than dwelling on what came after. “I had only met Veronica a few weeks before, so I didn’t know about the feeding schedule. Lilly wanted Chinese, so we were eating Chinese, watching a movie. I took the last egg roll and before I could even take a bite, this little blonde who I barely knew was grabbing my hand and shoving it into her mouth. Nearly took my fingers off with it.” He chuckles at the memory, but his eyes are sad. I reach out and put my hand on his and he smiles shyly at me. 

Trying to lighten the mood, I remind him, “Lilly and Duncan did try to warn you when you snatched that last egg roll.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you would go after it so aggressively.”

“Well, I was hungry.” I smirk at him. 

“If you wanted my egg roll, all you had to do was ask Mars.” He smirks back at me and I feel my face heat at his innuendo. 

Mike is watching us like he’s watching a volleyball match, eyes darting back and forth. “I’m sure it’s bigger than an egg roll.” His eyes are focused on Logan’s lap and Logan’s cheeks flush with pink. I laugh loudly, enjoying Logan getting a taste of his own medicine. He straightens his shoulders and smirks at Mike. 

“Much bigger.” _There’s the cocky boy I love._ The rest of dinner we share stories, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Logan offers to do the dishes while Mike and I check in with my dad. I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“What, I do this sort of thing now. It’s not like the military was going to let me just get away with not cleaning.” 

“Uh, huh. Tell the truth, you still have a maid service cleaning your place.” It suddenly hits me I don’t know where he lives or who he lives with. I guess I didn’t want to dwell too much on his relationship with Carrie, though he did say that it was serious. _Actually, he said that he could have loved her._ A shudder runs through me at the thought, but no one notices. 

“Okay, you got me, I have a service that comes once a month to help clean my condo in San Diego, but in between I do all the cleaning and cooking for myself.” He looks self-satisfied with his independence and I have to admit, I’m fairly impressed. I’m also more than a little relieved that he hasn’t been living with Carrie. It may be hypocritical, but the thought of Logan living with someone makes me slightly nauseous. 

Mike and I leave Logan to his dish duty and head to the library. When Logan saw it earlier his eyes lit up and I knew my secret bookworm would find a way to spend some time there if we stayed here for any length of time. It was also where the only phone in the house is located. Mike is adamant that this place be a sanctuary from the outside world, so there is no cable and the only phone is kept in a drawer in the library. 

I called my dad, putting him on speakerphone so Mike can hear, but he doesn't have much to report. 

“Mac is still trying to trace Mercer after he left prison. She thinks he changed his name, but he’s been really good at hiding his tracks. If we can find the name he’s using now, we should be able to find out who he’s working with. Mac thinks she has a lead and is working it now, but it may take a while for everything to come together.” His voice sounds stressed and I can picture him rubbing his bald head. I don’t know if it’s the idea that someone is after me or if he’s still upset because I’m with Logan. 

“Well, we know that he knows about Mike because he found us in DC. Thankfully this place is deeply hidden so we should be safe here while you and Mac try to figure out where he’s hiding.” I wish I could give him more reassurance, but the events of the day are catching up to me. Exhaustion threatens to overwhelm and I just want to get off the phone and get some sleep. I haven’t said anything to Mike, but from his knowing glance as I yawn, he knows that I won’t be sleeping alone tonight. 

I thank my dad, promising to check in tomorrow for any updates and to stay safe. Mike rubs my shoulders and I lean into his touch. 

“So…” He elongates the vowel, asking a thousand questions with one small word. 

“Nothing happened. We’re practically strangers now. We spent the time getting to know each other again. He told me that he and Carrie broke up. I told him I ended things with Piz” I shrug. 

“And you didn’t spend the night in his room or him in yours?” My cheeks flame and he chuckles. “That’s what I thought.”

“We didn’t have sex. We haven’t done anything except hug and one tiny kiss.” A heavy sigh slips out of me. 

Mike continues rubbing my shoulders as he leans down to kiss the top of my head. “I didn’t say anything about sex, you dirty girl. I figured you would end up sharing a bed, if for no other reason than to get a full night's sleep.” 

This is the problem with having a friend who knows all of your deepest, darkest secrets. Mike is no stranger to my night terrors, having woken me up more times than I can count after a particularly bad one. Back in college, we even tried to see if my sleeping with him would calm the fears, but it didn’t work. Apparently that particular talent belongs to Logan alone. 

Mike is gazing at me expectantly and I nod once, agreeing with his assessment. Mike’s eyes crinkle as he frowns. “Pixie-chick, you need to be careful. I don’t know exactly where his head is at, but it’s obvious that he cares about you a great deal. He hasn’t said much to me about his relationship with Carrie, but I get the feeling he’s a bit fragile right now. It has all the earmarks of an abusive relationship.” I tilt my head, considering his words. Not for a second do I think the abuse would be coming from Logan. “He’s also insanely attracted to you. Boy is a walking hard-on around you. Don’t lead him on if you’re not sure this is what you want.” 

“I’m not, I won’t.” I shake my head. “I want him, but there’s so much that we haven’t talked about. How would that even work? His life is in California, mine is in New York.”

“That’s why this talking thing is so important. Take it one step at a time. Maybe finally tell him how you really feel about him, see if he still feels the same way.” His eyes are concerned as he moves in front of me, kneeling down to maintain eye contact. 

“What if he doesn’t?” My voice comes out in a broken whisper. 

“Then you keep living.” He takes my hands in his, leaning his forehead against mine. “But Pixie-chick, I think he does. He’d be a fool not to.” 

We stay like that for a few more minutes while I try to calm my thoughts. Logan comes looking for us, and for a brief second I see pain etched across his face before he schools his features into a bland expression. 

“I don’t know about you two, but I’m completely wiped. I think I’ll head up to bed.” Logan punctuates his sentence with a quick stretch, exposing a sliver of those yummy abs. 

“I think Pixie-chick is probably right behind you. She’s been yawning up a storm.” Mike pulls my hands, helping me to stand. I nod tiredly, agreeing with his assessment. “I’m going to take care of a few things before I head up. I’ll see you both in the morning.” 

We say our goodnights and Logan and I walk upstairs silently. When we get to the door of the room he’s sleeping in, I’m suddenly nervous. I want to ask to stay with him again, but Mike’s warning echoes in my head. I don’t want Logan to feel uncomfortable. I hesitate, my mouth opening and closing as I try to find the words. 

“Veronica, do you want to stay with me again?” His intelligent brown eyes gaze into mine intently. I nod, unsure of my voice. He opens the door and ushers me in. My bag is already in the room, and I know I left it in one of the other guest rooms during our tour. I don’t know if Logan or Mike moved it, but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. I grab some pajamas and my toiletry kit out of the bag before heading into the ensuite bathroom to get ready for bed. 

When I return, Logan has already stripped down, wearing a pair of loose shorts. He slips past me to brush his teeth. For some reason, tonight I am more nervous than I was last night. I pull back the covers and crawl in. Logan flips off lights as he makes his way to the bed. When he lays down, I roll towards him, curling up into his side. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer, but doesn’t say anything. 

The air between us feels laden with possibilities. I open my mouth, but Logan’s whispered “Goodnight, Veronica.” stops whatever I was going to say. 

“Goodnight, Logan.” 

_**Logan POV** _

Waking in the morning to a soft weight on my chest and silky strands sliding across my chest, it takes me a second to come fully awake. Veronica’s head is resting on my chest, leg crooked at the knee and resting on my thigh, she has an arm wrapped around my waist, her fingers dangerously close to my throbbing erection. I sigh deeply, inhaling the slight vanilla scent in her hair. As my chest rises and falls with the sigh, Veronica murmurs in her sleep, turning her head slightly to lay a light kiss against my left pec. My breath comes out in harsh pants as I try to remain still, afraid to disturb her. _Think of baseball, surfing, anything unsexy. Do not think about her._

The next sigh I let out has a frustrated edge. None of the usual tactics are working. Instead, my traitorous mind keeps thinking about that kiss on the train. It’s ridiculous that I’m this worked up over a simple, chaste kiss, but I suppose there’s precedent. She didn’t even touch my lips that first time on the balcony of the Camelot and I still felt completely engulfed in flames. I couldn’t stop what happened next if I tried and I definitely didn’t want to try. There was a rightness in that moment, like everything just made sense suddenly. All my anger and hurt were nothing in the face of what this girl made me feel. I should have learned by now that I’m powerless when it comes to my feelings for Veronica Mars. 

Those same lips are still resting against my pec, warm breath tickling my skin. I need to get up. Instead, my fingers find the gap between her tank and her sleep shorts, splaying on her lower back, reveling in the smoothness I find there. My cock twitches. I really need to move, but I don’t want to wake her. She told me that she only sleeps well when she’s with me. Even if I’m going to explode soon, even if I’m so hard it’s painful, I can’t find it in me to deny her this. Her leg shifts higher, grazing my cock and I bite my tongue hard to hold back the moan threatening to escape my throat. It’s exquisite and torture. If she were interrogating me right now, I’d tell her anything. 

I tighten all of my muscles, keeping my eyes on the ceiling, my hand flexing on her back, trying to talk myself down. I’m nearly at the end of my control here. It’s hard to keep in mind that she wants nothing but friendship with me when she’s wrapped around me like this. Her fucking leg moves again, subtly sliding up and down over my cock. 

A low moan escapes my lips. I glance down at Veronica, expecting her to still be asleep, but instead, brown eyes meet blue. Her lips quirk in a sexy smile while her leg continues to caress my erection. The motion that I thought was an innocent sleep reaction is deliberate, and I’m going to fucking lose it. I take a harsh breath through my teeth. 

“Morning.” Veronica tilts her head up towards me. I lick my lips, wanting desperately to kiss her but still unsure what she wants. Bright blue eyes track my tongue swiping across my lower lip. 

I should say something, anything, but I’m caught in her gaze. Now I know how those stupid mongoose feel when they’re caught by the cobra. Suddenly, Veronica crosses the divide between us, capturing my lips with hers. I let out the breath I didn’t realize that I was holding, too shocked to react at first. She takes advantage of my gasp for air and slips her tongue in my mouth. 

It feels like fire, liquid fire engulfing every part of me. She sucks my tongue slightly into her mouth, applying pressure and swirling her own tongue around the tip. It feels amazing. She starts to pull back, but my body takes over, giving my brain a much needed vacation. My arm around her tightens, pulling her closer to my body. My other hand sweeping down her shoulder to her hip, aligning her so her core rests on my cock. My lips have traveled to her neck and I unerringly find that spot that makes her go weak. I bite down gently, sweeping my tongue across to sooth. 

Veronica’s hands are trailing down my arms, tracing my biceps. She smooths her hands over my chest, using her nails lightly as she slides past my nipples. My head comes up from her neck with a gasp. 

“Fuck, fuck.” That spot is one only she’s ever found. I can’t help grinding my cock into her. She smiles wickedly and does it again. The moan that escapes me is almost louder than hers when I rub my cock against her clit, my fingers digging into her hip. Her nails score in a bit deeper while her head falls back. 

I slide my hand up her back, gently pulling her face back to mine for another deep kiss. _Oh god, I’ve died, and this is heaven and hell._ She’s slowly grinding herself against my cock in even strokes, small gasps escaping her as my cock drags across her clit. Her wetness has soaked through her thin sleep shorts, torturing me even more. My brain wakes up from its vacation, filling my head with unwelcome thoughts and questions. _Does this mean she wants to be more than friends, is it a one-time thing?_

Doubt and terror that I could fuck this up before this is even anything simply because I let lust get in the way causes me to pull back from Veronica, panting heavily. Her eyes are half closed, lips swollen from my kisses. Her breath is coming in soft gasps, her nipples hardened to tiny pebbles under her tank. _Want._ I shift my gaze back to her heavily lidded eyes. She looks like sex personified. My breathing is harsh as I struggle for some form of control. I’m seconds away from rolling us so she’s under me and ripping off every bit of clothing from her with my teeth, burying my aching cock in her heat. _It’s too soon, too much. I can’t fuck this up. She just broke up with Piz, she was living with him. I can’t be her rebound. This won’t work if it’s a rebound and I’m in this for the long game and nothing else, I can’t lose her again. She is it for me._

"What's wrong?" Her blue eyes widening when I roll away from her, standing up to put more space between us. I don’t trust myself right now to not continue what we've started. 

"Nothing, I just think we need to stop before this goes further." I continue backing away, unable to take my eyes off of her as she pouts. It takes all of my self-control to not run back to her, but I refuse to lose this chance I might have for a moment of morning lust. If we make the decision to be together, we need to talk first, understand what we’re offering one another. I’m not the guy who just lets his cock rule his head anymore. Still, it’s one of the hardest (pun intended) things I’ve ever done. Leaving her there, aroused. Something I’ve never done. Even when we were dating and she wasn’t ready to be with me fully, I never left her there, aroused and unfulfilled. 

There’s more I should say, but if I stay for another second, there’s no way I’m not finishing what we started. Instead, I take the coward’s way out and practically run to the bathroom. I lock the door, turning on the shower. I can hear Veronica calling my name, voice laced with confusion and something else I can’t identify through the door, but I don’t answer her. 

I strip off the shorts I’m wearing, now drenched in her arousal, and step under the icy stream, the shock tempering my raging hard on. I stay in the shower for a few minutes until my teeth start to chatter. Stepping out, I wrap a towel around my waist. 

The reality of what just happened hits me again and I lean against the counter, taking deep calming breaths. Running wasn’t the answer, haven’t I learned that from Veronica over and over again. Running has only ever created more problems between us. I straighten my shoulders, prepared to face her again, but as I step out of the bathroom, an empty bedroom greets me. 

_Fuck!!!!_ I sit heavily on the bed, and drop my face into my hands. Even when I’m trying to do the right thing, I fuck it up. _Some things never change. She deserves so much better than me._

_**Veronica POV** _

Logan backs away from me before turning and running to the bathroom. My mouth falls open in shock. _Did Logan Echolls just run away from me? And in the middle of a very heavy make-out session?_ I sit up, clutching the blanket to my chest for a second before squaring my shoulders. 

“Logan?” I struggle to keep my voice steady, but I can hear the desperation. 

My mind races, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. I hear the shower start. Something must have triggered him. I think through what we were doing, but can’t see anything that would cause this reaction from him. This has got to be the first time that Logan Echolls has declined an explicit invitation for sex. Insecurities, long since banished, surface causing me to clutch the blanket even tighter. _He doesn’t want me._ Tears fill my eyes at the thought and I blink them back. I will not cry about this. 

There’s no way I’m going to sit there waiting for him to reject me a second time. Keeping an eye on the bathroom door, I quickly gather up my things, shoving them back into my suitcase and make my way quietly out. I need to be alone to lick my wounds. 

I settle myself into the bedroom furthest from the one I shared with Logan. My veins still thrum with unfulfilled desire, making me slightly irrational. I can’t remember ever being so frustrated before. Even when Logan and I were dating the first time and he was so insistent on going slow he didn’t leave me hanging like this. 

The only thing I can think to explain his behavior is that he’s not over Carrie. He’s a guy, and he woke up with a hard on. I was a convenient body and more than willing to let our chemistry take over, but he must have realized that I wasn’t Carrie. He might still be attracted to me, but Logan was always one for emotion over the physical. Even though I accused him of being a man-whore more times than I could count, but, the truth of it is that he is unfailingly loyal when he truly cares about someone. No amount of temptation could get him to cheat. Of course, knowing that and feeling it when we were dating wasn’t always easy for me. 

Mike would tell me that, and has more than once, my jealousy stemmed from insecurities of my own sexual prowess. He isn’t wrong. I always felt inadequate in the face of Logan’s experience. For all my boldness and confidence, I never understood why he would want me over the millions of girls that threw themselves at him. He’s the kind of guy who dates pop stars, not the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. 

The more I think about it, the more it makes sense to me that Logan was acting on biological instinct this morning, and when his brain caught up, he realized what he was doing. Guilt floods me for taking advantage of the situation. I know he said he and Carrie were over, but he was with her for almost two years. It’s not like those feelings go away simply because you say it’s over. I wasn’t even close to being in love with Piz, doubt I ever would have been, but I still care about him. 

There’s a lot of history between us, it’s only natural that it gets caught up in all this mess. I shouldn’t have used him to keep away the nightmares. It wasn’t fair to him. _How am I going to face him?_

First things first, I need a shower, a cold one to rid myself of my remaining lust. Still feeling dejected and rejected, I grab some clean clothes and head into the bathroom for a quick shower. As I stand under the tepid stream, I allow the tears that have been threatening since Logan ran from me to overflow, finding catharsis in the release. I am reminded of college when he broke up with me. If I had argued with him, would he have changed his mind? Would it have made any difference? I was so closed off then, unwilling to believe that he could truly love me. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Only in the shower, could I allow my feelings to show, knowing that the water would wash it away. Once ready, I hesitate. Being fully awake, I desperately need some coffee, but I’m not sure how I can face Logan. 

Finally, my desperate need for caffeine outweighs my desire to avoid Logan and I make my way to the kitchen. Mike is sitting at the island, reading a real newspaper. I glance around the kitchen, but Logan doesn’t seem to have made an appearance. 

Mike glances up at me, gesturing to the nearly full coffee pot. “Just made it. Help yourself.” He goes back to reading the paper. 

Filling a mug, I inhale the heady scent, before taking a seat next to Mike. He glances at me again and raises an eyebrow. I shake my head, not ready to talk. He puts the paper down, reaching an arm around my waist to pull me closer to him. I lean my head against his shoulder, taking comfort in his silent support. This is what I love about Mike. He always knows what I need without me needing to say anything. 

We sit in silence like this for several long minutes. Then Logan arrives, fully dressed and looking better than he has a right to, interrupting our quiet moment. 

“Morning.” Chocolate brown eyes narrow while Logan takes in the sight of Mike and I cuddling together at the island. His nostrils flare before he takes a deep breath, letting it escape his lips slowly. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was jealous, but that’s ridiculous. For one, Mike is gay and for two, he doesn’t want me. A fact that he made abundantly clear to me when he bolted from the bed. He opens his mouth to say something but seems to decide against it. Turning from us, he helps himself to a cup of coffee. 

He leans across us, staring intently at his coffee as if it holds the meaning of life. I glance at Mike and he smirks, clearly thinking the same thing. 

“42” We say simultaneously, laughing at our own joke. Logan looks up sharply, his eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“Sorry, you were just really engrossed in that coffee.” Mike chokes out the words, laughter still bubbling out of him. Logan just shakes his head, a small smile ghosting across his face before it settles into a frown. He glances down at his coffee again. 

“This must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.” Logan quotes Douglas Adams sharing that rare literary side of him. 

And this is one of the many reasons I love Logan. He gets me in a way so few people do. Despair washes through me, causing me to shiver and a lump to form in my throat. 

“Cold?” Mike’s eyes crinkle in concern as he rubs my arm. “There’s a sweater in the hall closet, like always.” Mike keeps sweaters all over the place just for me since he knows I get cold so easily and an extra layer is always welcome. I smile, but shake my head. 

“So what’s the plan for today?” Logan glances between us, that slight frown still turning those beautiful lips down. I shiver again as I think of how they felt against my own this morning. “Are you sure you’re not cold, Veronica? I can grab the sweater for you.” 

Not wanting to share my thoughts, I shyly nod, accepting his offer. He sets his mug down, briskly walking towards the hall. Alone again, Mike raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Not cold, staring at his lips, awkward behavior. Did you get laid, Pixie-chick?” Mike uses his best dad voice, injecting just a hint of sternness to his tone. He appraises me carefully and shakes his head. “No, not laid, unless it was terrible. I can’t see that beautiful specimen being bad in bed. But something happened.” 

My eyes widened at his observation. He never ceases to surprise me. I’m saved from answering by Logan draping a sweater over my shoulders. I can’t help but notice that he is very careful to not actually touch me. _Two steps forward, four steps back. I should have that stitched on a sampler and hung in my house._

Logan moves around the island, taking up the spot he had vacated. He sips on his coffee, staring off into space for a few seconds before fixing Mike with an intense gaze. “So plan?”

Mike turns to me, his eyes questioning. I shrug. I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought, figuring that it was probably best to wait and see what my dad and Mac are able to dig up. “I should check in with my dad to see if he’s turned anything up. Otherwise, I guess we just hang out here.”

Logan nods, shrugging his shoulder noncommitmentaly. 

“I should probably check my messages, make sure everything is okay with my clients.” Mike gets up. “I’ll be a few minutes and then we can make some breakfast before checking in with Keith.” 

He heads to the library, leaving Logan and I alone in the kitchen. Logan has gone back to staring at his coffee. If he’s not going to say anything about what happened then I’m not going to bring it up either. _We’ll just pretend like it didn’t happen._ Now if I can just tell that to my frustrated libido. 

“I’ll make some pancakes.” Logan’s voice startles me and I jump slightly. He doesn’t notice, still staring at his coffee. 

“Pancakes sound good. And maybe some bacon?” My voice is steady, showing no hint of the turmoil running through me. 

“As if I’d forget bacon when cooking for you.” His voice is light, teasing, but his face still holds a hint of a frown, his eyes are sad, puppy dog like as he continues to avoid making eye contact with Mike or I. 

Logan lets go of his mug, going to the fridge to pull out ingredients for breakfast. I contemplate helping him, but it’s clear that my continued presence is making him uncomfortable. 

“I’m just going to check on Mike.” I glance at the clock above the stove, realizing Mike has been gone for quite some time. More time than he would need to just check his messages. Logan nods, his back to me as he mixes ingredients. 

I slip off my stool and go to the library. Mike is on the phone when I join him. He waves a hand, telling me to sit down. He holds the phone between his shoulder and ear, placing his hands over his ears, our signal that he’s talking to a client and I can’t listen to his conversation. 

I put my fingers in my ears, humming quietly, waiting for him to finish. He lets out an exasperated sigh when he finally hangs up the phone. I watch him expectantly. 

“I have to go back to DC. One of my clients is in crisis. I thought I might be able to help them over the phone, but this really requires an in person touch.” Mike is devoted to his patients, each one unique and special. This isn’t the first time he’s left me on my own to go help one of them. 

“Is that safe?” I’m thinking of our stalker who was at his DC house. 

“I’ll take the train and stay with a friend rather than going back to the house. I’ll have my client meet me somewhere other than the office.” He’s clearly thought this through. “Do you think you and Logan would be willing to drive me to the train station in Harper’s Ferry? There’s a train leaving in about an hour. If he drives me then you guys will have a car here in case you need to make a quick getaway.”

“Why doesn’t Logan just drive you? I’ll stay here and do some studying.” I lower my eyes, hoping that Mike doesn’t push this. 

“Pixie-chick, what happened?” His voice is soft, soothing like he’s trying to coax a scared animal. _Is that what I am? No, I’m a bobcat._ Tears fill my eyes as I think the nickname Logan once gave me. The bobcat is small but fierce. 

Mike pulls me into a tight hug and I let the tears building since Logan came into the kitchen to stream down my face. 

“He doesn’t want me.” My voice breaks as I sob the words. 

“Of course he does. Anyone can see that.” Mike brushes my hair away from my face. When he tucks a strand behind my ears, my sobs increase, wracking my body until I can barely breath. “What happened? It seemed like you were doing so well together.”

I pull back, sniffling. I take a deep breath, trying to get control of myself. I give Mike the abbreviated version of waking up to Logan, the intense makeout and how he bolted from me. 

“He ran. He said nothing was wrong, but we needed to stop before it went further.” I hiccup, tears still streaming, but the sobs have subsided for now. 

“Let me guess, you just left, didn’t even try to talk through what happened and now you’re thinking the worst.” It’s not a judgement. I nod, still sniffling. 

“He just broke up with Carrie. He doesn’t want anything with me. I couldn’t stay to hear him give me platitudes like it’s not you, it’s me or I think we’re better off as friends.”

“You do realize that by not talking to him and making things up in your head, you’re just repeating your old patterns?” Mike’s eyes are stern as he holds my gaze with his. “You need to talk to him instead of making assumptions. You just reconnected with him. From what I’ve seen, he’s grown up a lot since you knew him. If you truly love him, then you need to look at him as the man he is now and not the scared boy he was then.”

He’s right, I know he’s right, but I just can’t do it right now. “It’s easier to not know. What if I’m right? What if he doesn’t feel this connection that I feel? I treated him so badly back then, constantly accusing him. Why would he possibly love me?” Mike’s stern expression breaks and his eyes are liquid with unshed tears. 

“Oh, Pixie-chick, how could he not love you? Did you make mistakes in the past? Yes, and so has he, but that is the past. You have been through so much. But none of that means you’re damaged goods, you hear me?”

This is an old conversation. A truth that I have struggled to accept. I am not damaged because of what Cassidy and Duncan did to me. I was a victim, but it didn’t soil me for all time. It took me a long time to see how that fear of being dirty somehow colored my relationship with Logan. I mistreated him in an effort to keep from him seeing that spoiled part of me, convinced that when he did finally see it, he wouldn’t love me anymore. 

Mike takes pity on me. “I’ll have Logan drive me, but you have to promise me you will talk to him when he gets back. Two hours, that’s all I’m giving you to pull your shit together and handle this like the strong, amazing woman we both know you are.”

I smile wanly at him. “Two hours. I promise.” Mike envelopes me in another warm hug. 

“Now, I can smell bacon, so let’s go see what your man has for us and tell him the good news.” Mike keeps his arm around my shoulder as he leads me back to the kitchen. 

Logan has finished cooking and set the table for three. He gives me a sharp look when we enter, and I regret not stopping in the bathroom to fix my face. I probably look a mess. Logan’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing. _Ah, avoidance,_ a classic Logan and Veronica relationship tactic. Nice to see old habits die hard. 

“So, I have to head back to DC to meet with a client. I thought you could drive me and Pixie-Chick can stay here and get some studying done. This way you have a car if you need to make a getaway.” Mike helps himself to a couple of pancakes, wrapping them around a few pieces of bacon. Logan inhales sharply.

“Veronica should come with us.” Logan’s jaw clenches stubbornly, his intelligent brown eyes gazing intently at me. 

“I’ll be fine here. This place isn’t easy to find, and isn’t in Mike’s name. I really need to get some studying done. The test is only a few weeks away.” I let my gaze plead with him. _Please understand, I need some time alone._ He nods curtly, agreeing but not happy about it. 

“Great, that’s settled. Sorry to cut breakfast short, thanks for that man, by the way, but the train leaves from Harper’s Ferry in about 45 minutes and it’s at least a 30 minute drive so we need to get a move on.” Mike snatches another pancake and some more bacon, rolling them together before heading to the garage, expecting Logan to follow. 

Logan hesitates, his mouth opening and shutting. He finally barks out an order. “Lock the doors.” Logan warns me before following Mike out to the garage. 

Silence descends. Well, I might as well get some studying done and hopefully get my shit together like Mike said, so I’m ready to talk to Logan when he gets back. 

I delay lingering over the breakfast Logan made. His pancakes are really good. I wonder when he learned to cook. The boy I knew was completely reliant on room service. Mike’s right, I really need to stop trying to force Logan into my memory. We’ve both grown up. We were just kids back then, too traumatized to form a healthy relationship back then. 

I clean up the kitchen before grabbing my books from the room I moved to this morning. I set myself up in the library, figuring that I’ll be close to the phone in case my dad calls with news. It doesn’t take long before I’m engrossed in the material. I might not be thrilled with the idea of becoming a lawyer, especially a corporate lawyer, but I do find the subjects fascinating. 

Maybe I should consider becoming a prosecutor. _Isn’t it worth more to find the work I do satisfying than being able to pay off my student loans?_

My musings get interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Per Logan’s instructions, I locked the doors. Maybe Mike just gave him the car key? I glance at the clock on the wall, realizing that there’s no way it’s Logan. It must be the local Mike has doing work for him, no one else knows we’re here. 

I make my way to the front door. It’s a solid piece of oak and the windows are spaced too far from it to look out and see who's standing on the front step. I pause as the doorbell rings again. Come on, Veronica, it’s not like Mercer would just ring the bell. It’s probably just the groundskeeper. 

I open the door, my mouth falling open in shock. 

“Piz? What the hell are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the end. Enjoy this last somewhat fluffy chapter. It will be a bumpy ride from here on out. 
> 
> Thanks as always to my betas for their unfailing support and wading through my imagination. Thanks HBG and Bugaboo!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Trigger Warnings - TW: Discussions of Rape. TW: Discussions of Drug Use. TW: Physical Assault** _
> 
> Seriously, this chapter is dark and contains a lot of material that many may find unsettling.

_**TW: Discussions of Rape. TW: Discussions of Drug Use. TW: Physical Assault** _

**_Logan POV_ **

The drive to Harper’s Ferry is uneventful. Mike and I make small talk most of the way. I find myself wanting to talk to him about what happened this morning, but feel like I should talk to Veronica before I tell her BFF everything. Besides, I’m not really sure what there is to say. I can tell he knows that something is up from the way he keeps giving me concerned glances when he thinks I’m not looking. 

I drop him off with a warning to take care of himself and to let us know when he arrives and when he’s on his way back. Heading back to the car, I pause, taking in the scenery. I’ve never really spent a lot of time in this part of the country. One of my parent’s friends had a cabin in West Virginia that we went to one year, but it wasn’t near here. 

The town is set on a hill with rivers running by it. I can see kayakers out on the river, although the fact that the air still has a bit of a nip to it. I shiver slightly missing the southern California weather. I debate taking some time and exploring the town, maybe visiting the museum, but it’s just a delaying tactic. Besides, as much as I don’t want to go back to the awkwardness with Veronica, I really don’t like her being there all alone so far away from me. Heaving a deep sigh, I get in the Audi and navigate my way back to the highway. 

With Mike, we talked almost the whole way. Despite my continued jealousy of his relationship with Veronica, I’m really coming to like him. I feel comfortable talking to him about almost anything. Without him to chat with, I resign myself to a ride trapped in my own head. I turn on the radio, hoping for some music to keep my thoughts at bay. 

I’m in danger of overthinking everything. I could have handled this morning’s freak out better. I know I hurt her by doing that, yet I couldn’t stay and not fuck her senseless. It would devastate me if we slept together, and I had to let her go again. It’s the bridge I know I can’t cross and keep my sanity. As long as we don’t breach the physical divide, I might have a chance of going back to my life and living again without her. 

It was self-preservation, I’m just sorry that it came at her expense. It always seems that I’m hurting her. I blink rapidly, trying to dispel the image of Veronica’s tearstained face. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen that look on her face and each time devastated me. I wanted to have a chance with her, talk to her about trying a relationship again. I have no fucking clue how that would work, but I want her in my life. I don’t know how I’ve made it this long without her. All these swirling thoughts are getting me nowhere. I try to lose myself in the music, giving my brain something else to focus on, but for the most part the choices aren’t great.

I manage to find a somewhat decent station that plays a mix of pop, rock, and alternative, but sometimes it's more pop than I’d like. Dean Lewis’ song Half a Man comes on and I turn it up loud. 

_“I've been running from my demons, afraid to look behind, I've been running from myself, afraid of what I'd find, but how am I supposed to love you when I don't love who I am? And how can I give you all of me when I'm only half a man? 'Cause I'm a sinking ship that's burning, so let go of my hand. Oh, how can I give you all of me when I'm only half a man?”_

The song seems written for me. _What can I offer Veronica? How can I ask her to love me?_ I know I’ve grown up these past eight years and I mostly like who I am now, but is it enough? _Am I enough for her?_

I’m still a mess when I get back to the cabin, anxious and eager to finally talk to. I park, but sit in the car for a few minutes, trying to collect my thoughts. Nothing’s been solved, Mercer is still out there, but I at least owe her an explanation for this morning. Veronica is this bad ass, super strong woman, but there’s insecurity there. Most people never see that side of her. But I know how much sex means to her, how inadequate she thought she was. It was yet another one of our problems. I tried to reassure her, to let her know how amazing she was, but she could never get past my greater experience. Quantity doesn’t equate to quality. I may have had sex with a lot of women, but most of those were one-night stands and nothing to write home about. It takes time with a partner for sex to be amazing. Sure there’s the mechanics of it and it's not like I ever failed to cum during one of those assisgnations, but the wildest acrobatic sex didn’t hold a candle to even missionary position with Veronica. 

_Stupid Logan. You know how insecure she is, so what do you do? You fucking run away from her without even a word. It's no wonder she left you._

Nothing is going to be resolved as long as I’m being a fucking pussy sitting out in this car. I straighten my shoulders, steeling myself for the conversation to come and walk to the back door. I figure Veronica is probably still in the library, so I am surprised when I hear voices coming from the foyer. 

_Is that Piz?_ I slow, recognizing his passive aggressive voice. Veronica’s voice rings out and I stop before they see me. 

“Piz, I told you before. This isn’t about me and Logan. We’re not together. It’s been eight years since we’ve even seen each other. If it weren’t for this case, I doubt either of us would have reached out to the other. We’re out of each other’s lives and that doesn’t just change overnight. Besides, he lives on the other side of the country and has his military obligations. We’re not going to get together with all of that between us.” My heart stutters in my chest at her words. She sounds exasperated, but all I can focus on is the fact that she doesn’t plan on getting back together with me. Which means my running this morning was probably for the best. It was just a physical thing and would have made everything worse. 

Despair settles on me like a dark fog and I stumble back outside, needing to put as much space as I can between myself and those words. _She doesn’t want me. She’s never going to want me. I’m never going to be enough for her._ Tears threaten to spill from my eyes and I dash my hand across impatiently. This isn't really news to me, haven’t I always known this? Isn’t that why I broke up with her in freshman year? _I need to get away._

Thankfully, I threw on my sneakers today and some track pants, figuring if we were just staying at the cabin, there was no point to not being comfortable. In the back of my head I had envisioned a day cuddling on the couch watching DVDs with Veronica. Once we got past what happened this morning, of course. Still, it suits my purpose now as I run blindly from the house. Mike had mentioned lots of trails around the property, so I run towards the woods, hoping that a long run will help some of this pain go away. 

_**Veronica POV** _

“Piz? What the hell are you doing here?” _What in the hell is he doing here? How did he find me?_ My ex-boyfriend stands there on the front porch, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously. He smiles sheepishly at me, his hands shoved in his pocket. 

“Hi, your dad told me where you were. I just...” He trails off, glancing around behind me in the house. I realize I’m still standing in the doorway and I move to the side, waving an arm to invite him in. “Where’s Logan?”

“He’s out with Mike. Piz, what are you doing here?” I shut the door and turned to face him. His head swivels as he takes in the cabin. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried about you.” He reaches for my hand, but I pull it back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Am I not allowed to care for you now?” His voice is whiny. _How did I never really notice how nasal and high-pitched he is?_

“I’m not saying that. I still care about you too, but coming all this way out here. If my dad told you where I was, you could have just called. What if someone followed you here?” He’s such a fucking idiot. He’s always been too innocent to be in my world. The boy from Beaverton would never think about covering his trail, so he doesn’t bring our assailant right down on us. Logan would never do something so stupid. 

He shrugs, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t think of that, but I think I was safe. I rented a car and drove.”

I glance at the clock. Logan will be back soon. Somehow I don’t think it will go over well with my ex-boyfriend being here. I need to get Piz to leave before Logan returns. 

“Piz, I appreciate the concern, but you’ve got to go. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, but it's dangerous and you don’t belong here.” His eyes gline with rage. I blink, taking a step back, and it’s gone. _Cassidy._ I shake my head. No, I’m just imagining things. Piz is nothing like him.

“But Logan does? Are you two back together again?” His voice turns rough. 

“Piz, I told you before. This isn’t about me and Logan. We’re not together. It’s been eight years since we’ve even seen each other. If it weren’t for this case, I doubt either of us would have reached out to the other. We’re out of each other’s lives and that doesn’t just change overnight. Besides, he lives on the other side of the country and has his military obligations. We’re not going to get together with all of that between us.” And I don’t think he’s over his ex or that he wants me, if this morning is any indication. 

“He’s still here though.” It’s an accusation delivered with such fury that I take another involuntary step back coming up against the door. I’m starting to feel cornered, my eyes darting around for an escape.

“Yes, because he’s in danger. We both are.” I just want him to leave. 

“You still love him.” Piz stalks toward me, and I debate sidestepping around him. My heart speeds up in my chest and my long dormant spidey-sense begins to tingle. 

“I do love him, but that changes nothing. He doesn’t feel the same. Piz, I’m sorry, truly I am, but we’re over. I hope that we can be friends, but right now I just need you to go. I can’t have another person in the line of fire.” 

“He doesn’t care about you. He’s just going to hurt you.” Piz’s jaw clenches tight. He grabs my upper arms, shaking me. “He doesn’t deserve you. I love you. We belong together. Dammit, Veronica why won’t you open your eyes and see that?”

“Piz, you’re hurting me.” He shakes me harder, slamming my head against the door and I see stars. 

“I will not let him have you. You’re mine.” The Piz before me is a complete stranger. His face is a mask of rage. Gone is the mild-mannered boy from Beaverton. The person in front of me emanates a rage that I haven’t seen since that night on the roof with Cassidy. Like that night. I’m terrified, hoping Logan gets back soon because I don’t know what Piz is going to do with me. 

Piz starts to drag me through the house, I fight and struggle but my slight body betrays me.

I’ve relied on Mr. Sparky in physical confrontations rather than upper body strength. I try to bite him and he backhands me, my head slams into the wall. I fight the darkness threatening to over take me. Dazed, he drags me into the kitchen. Despite the dizziness that overwhelms me, I continue struggling the entire way. Piz’s hand tightens on my arm as he starts ripping out drawers, searching. Finally he holds up his find, a smug smile playing across his lips. 

Baker’s Twine. He wraps it tightly around my wrists, binding them together before shoving me into a chair. He kneels down in front of me, grasping my left ankle and trying to tie it to the chair leg. I try to kick at him, but he swiftly stands and slaps me again. My head is ringing from the force of the blow and darkness starts to creep into the corners of my vision. I grit my teeth against the pain, struggling to remain conscious. The last thing I see before darkness claims me is Piz standing in front of me, glowering with a twisted smile. 

_Logan will be back soon. Logan’s going to save me._

_**Logan POV** _

Several miles in, my body just hitting its stride, it finally hits me that Piss is there. I mean, I knew that, I heard what Veronica said to him, but somewhere in between then and now, I shut down. The pain of hearing her telling Piz that we didn’t stand a chance together, blocking out every other thought. As my feet pound out the miles, it was like I was running to the words. _“We’re not going to get together with all of that between us.”_ There’s a stabbing pain in my chest that has nothing to do with my run. Not going to be together. I’ve already lost her. 

No, that is the old Logan talking. _Why am I giving up before I even have a chance to try? Isn’t that what I did after the Madison debacle?_ Other than that one drunk rambling phone message which I doubt she ever even heard, I never tried to get her back. I just took everything she said at face value and cut my losses. I had such low self- esteem then, I couldn’t see why she would ever love me, so it wasn’t hard to believe her when she said she was never getting over it. I just moved on with Parker, even though I knew that I was still in love with Veronica. If I run away now, then it's just going to be like that all over again. I need to go back and fight for her. Maybe I won’t win, but at least this time I’ll know for sure I tried. I’ll be damned if I let Piss win again. 

I didn’t really think about the fact that Piss was there. I think it was some holdover of trauma from college that I didn’t question his presence. No one is supposed to know where we are except for Keith. _Could he have told him?_ _I know that he’s never liked me and would probably do just about anything to ensure that his precious daughter ended up with the good guy rather than the fuck up that is Logan Echolls, but does that include giving away our location?_ I stop for a second, looking back in the house’s direction. Something is very off about this. My spidey-sense is tingling and I take off back towards the house and Veronica. I put on an extra burst of speed, convinced that I’ve left her in danger. It’s the same feeling I had when I got that text the night of graduation. I didn’t recognize the number, but everything in me told me that Veronica was in danger and nothing could stop me from trying to save her. 

I push myself far beyond my limits, desperate to get back to her. I slow as I reach the clearing marking the start of the house area. I look around, trying to see if anything is amiss. There’s a white Ford Focus in the driveway, probably Piss’ but nothing else seems wrong. _Of course he’s still here._ I can’t help but wonder if they’re in there getting back together. Nausea roils in my stomach at the thought of Piss putting his hands on her. Ingrained in my memory are the images of that damn video. I never really understood how Veronica felt about Madison until I saw that video. Those are images that I’ve never been able to fully erase. Even knowing that she and Duncan slept together in our senior year didn’t torture me as much as seeing that video did. 

Walking carefully towards the backdoor, I intend to just slip inside and go upstairs if they’re still talking. _I refuse to think of them doing anything else._ I see a shadow out of the corner of my eye by the garage, but there’s nothing there when I swing around to look. Shrugging to myself, I resume walking.

Pain explodes in the back of my head, and I fall to my knees. Shaking my head to clear the stars in front of my eyes, feet appear in front of me. I look up, squinting against the sun behind the shape in front of me. My vision slowly clears and I recognize my old friend Mercer Hayes holding a gun trained at my head. 

This is just great. I was so distracted by Piss that I let Mercer get the drop on me. I pull myself to my feet, straightening to my full height, my jaw clenched in rage. I won’t let him have Veronica, even if it means my life. I would gladly give up mine to save her. 

“It’s so good to see you again man.“ Mercer’s smile is dark and sends shivers down my spine. “I’m really glad you decided to join us.” 

_Us?_ Veronica and I were right. He has an accomplice, but who...Piznarski. Of course. I always knew there was something off about that asshole, but I just thought it was the way he kept trying to ask out Veronica when we were dating, hanging around just waiting for his chance. A part of me wants to laugh hysterically. I guess Keith chose the wrong, good guy. 

“Can’t say I share your sentiment. Where’s Veronica?” My voice is steady, showing none of the icy terror I feel. Has he already touched her? I’ll kill him. Gun or no gun. If he’s touched a hair on her head, I will rip him from limb to limb. 

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s being kept comfy, waiting for you to join the party.” He waves the gun, motioning for me to walk ahead of him to the house. As I pass, he presses the gun into my back. All of my instincts are telling me to disarm him, but I don’t know what they’ve done with Veronica and I can’t risk anything until I know she’s safe. 

Mercer keeps talking as we walk to the back door. Typical evil villain soliloquy that I only listen to with half an ear. Why do the bad guys always feel the need to share all of their plans with you? Yeah, I get it; you planned all of this. You manipulated Piz, you’ve been watching Veronica for years. You want to rape the love of my life while I watch and then kill me. Yeah, I get it. Something he says drags my attention back to him and I halt abruptly. He jabs the gun into my back harder. That’s going to leave a bruise. I refuse to budge. 

“What?” 

“Oh yeah, I thought that was the perfect end to this. Ties everything up very neatly. Bad boy ex with a known drug history has psychotic break, rapes and kills ex-girlfriend before overdosing himself. Thanks to Carrie, everyone will believe that you relapsed, the temptation of doing drugs with your coked out girlfriend too much to resist.” He frowns slightly. “Your drug use is well documented, isn’t it? And your violent streak. Like father, like son.” 

My mouth opens in horror. He’s a sick fucker. “What about Piss? Where does he come into all of this?” I can’t imagine that he wants to kill Veronica. 

“Oh, he tried to stop you, save his love, but isn’t it so sad that he was no match for a high and enraged Logan Echolls?” A part of me doesn’t completely hate that part of Mercer’s plan. He smiles that creepy evil smile again. “Hmm, thinking about it, it might be more fitting to just leave you alive. Tell you what, since we’re friends I’ll let you know decide what you want to do after I fuck Veronica and kill her. Either way, I’ve planted enough evidence that if you choose to not end your own life, you’ll be the one spending the rest of your days in prison. No more pretty military uniforms. And your whore won’t be there to save your ass this time.”

He prods me with the gun again. “Now get moving. I hope you enjoyed the time I gave you with the whore, got her all ready for me. You really should thank me for giving you the chance to fuck her one more time. From the way you talked about her in college, I’m sure her pussy will be well worth the wait. It must really be magic for you to turn down all that primo snatch that begged for your cock.”

Red rage clouds my vision, but I swallow it down. I need to keep a clear head. He hasn’t touched her yet, I might still be able to save her. I can’t let him bait me with his disgusting talk of her. _Was he always like this? Was I that much of a douche that I didn’t see the way he talked about women as a warning sign?_ Not for the first or even the hundredth, I curse myself for my stupidity when it came to him. 

My feet feel like lead as I reach the back door, slowly turning the handle. I desperately try to tamp down all of my emotions, drawing upon my military training. Calm, cool, think, act. This is not the time for impetuous Logan to surface. I have to be smart about this. 

When the door swings open, I see her. The mindless rage threatens to overtake me again at the sight of the bruise blossoming across her face, her left eye nearly swollen shut. Someone hit her. My fists clench, itching to extract retribution. Someone always has to pay. Piss stands over her whispering furiously and my rage has a clear target. Whatever else happens, he will pay for laying a hand on her. 

Veronica’s eye connects with mine, widening when she sees who's behind me. Her head swivels back to Piss. Mercer pushes me forward, but not close enough that I can get to her. When I try to take a step closer to her, his free hand grips my arm stopping me. 

“Mercer Hayes. Really, Piznarski?” Disdain drips from every word she says while fixing Piss with a glare. Piss ‘ mouth drops open and eyes widen. It would be comical if the situation weren’t so serious. _Didn’t he know who he was helping? What is his role in all of this? Unwitting patsy?_ Doesn’t change the beat-down I’m going to give him. 

“Oh, don’t be too hard on Piz, Veronica. He didn’t know my real name. Although with as much as he hates Logan here, he probably still would have helped me out.” Mercer smirks. Piss’ mouth hangs open like he’s going to catch flies. “He’s just not going to necessarily like my plan for you, though if he plays along, I’ll let him have a ride before I kill you, really twist the knife in Logan.” 

That seems to wake up Piss. “Wait, there isn’t anything in the plan about hurting Veronica!” I give a significant look at the bruising on her. 

“Don’t think you’re the poster child for not hurting Veronica there, Piss.” My voice is cold, my rage having moved past the mindless stage to the ice blue flame of cold calculation. This fucker’s only concern is that Mercer is going to rape Veronica? If there was any doubt in my mind that he was completely fucking off his rocker, this proves it. He made a deal with the devil, and now he wants to whine about how the devil is going to cross him while also making it a reality? 

“I really think you’ve lost your good boy status.” Veronica snarks with a twisted smirk on her face. Her good eye meets mine and I take strength from the sparks that pass between us. No matter what the future holds for us, we are one. There’s no one who understands me like Veronica Mars. “I guess it’s one more thing Logan was right about. You always were an ass Piss.”

“Veronica, I only did this for us, so he wouldn’t interfere in our lives. So you wouldn’t fall under his spell again. You and I are meant to be together.” Piss whines, his eyes pleading with Veronica to understand. She scoffs at him. 

“Meant to be? It’s been a while since I read or believed in fairy tales, but from what I can remember they didn’t include Prince Charming serving up the princess to the neighborhood rapist. You only wish you were half the man Logan is. He at least knows how to give a woman an orgasm.” 

_That’s my girl._ I smirk. 

Piss’ face twists into an ugly sneer facing me. “I can’t wait to watch you die, finally wipe that stupid smirk off your face.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think today is that day.” My smirk remains, taunting him. 

Mercer watches all of this with an amused expression. “As entertaining as all of this is, I’m afraid we need to move this show along. Piz if you don’t want a ride, then I’ll leave you here to keep Logan in check.” He pulls out another pistol from the back of his pants and hands it to Piss who immediately turns it on him.

“Not Veronica. I don’t care what you do to this fucker, but I won’t let you have Veronica.” He moves towards Veronica, the gun swaying as he leans down to undo the ties holding her to the chair. As the first one comes undone, a shot rings out, Mercer shooting Piss, point blank. The sound is deafening in the kitchen and my ears begin to ring. 

Piz falls back, blood pouring from his chest. He’s dead before he hits the ground. As my hearing returns, I hear Veronica screaming and I try to get to her again.

“Stop moving, Logan. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will. You should really be thanking me for the mercy I’ve shown you.” He pulls something out of his pocket and tosses it to me. I catch it out of reflex, looking down to see a black zippered case. On auto-pilot, I open the black case. Inside is a syringe, a small baggie of powder, a lighter, and a spoon. Even when I was at my worst, I never injected heroin. My secret fear of needles forcing me to snort it. Of course Mercer wouldn’t know that. I close the case, glancing at Veronica who seems to have fallen into some sort of state of shock, her mind refusing to accept what’s before her. Her eye is still open, but there’s no light there as she stares at Piz on the floor. 

If I don’t move now, Mercer is going to rape and kill her. I drop the case and lunge at him, hoping to knock him off balance before he shoots me. Instead of raising the gun at me he aims at Veronica stopping me in my tracks.

“Oh, Logan. Why couldn’t you play by the rules?” He shakes his head sadly. Keeping the gun trained on Veronica’s head, he points at the case on the floor. “I was going to give you a chance. Hell, I was even being nice enough to give you a few seconds of pleasure before that shit stops your heart or you choke on your own vomit. I even offered you the chance to see her enjoy her time with me before you died. I guess that’s not going to work now.”

He walks to Veronica who is very still, terror etched on her face. He grabs her hair pulling her head back, the gun against her temple while he kisses her. Veronica shows no reaction. 

“So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to prepare that syringe there while we wait and in return, I’ll let her live.” Mercer runs the gun down her face in a twisted caress. 

I would do anything for Veronica. Anything. Letting my military training take me over, I assess the situation. If I try to attack Mercer, there’s no way I can get to him before he kills her. I tick off options and reject them just as quickly. 

“Tick Tock, Logan. It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.” Mercer’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard, sending shivers down my spine with its unnatural calm. His gloating smile makes my hands clench tighter around the case. 

Veronica is still staring blankly. I try to catch her eye, hoping for some sign or divine intervention, but she’s focused on the floor where Piz’s bloody body still lays. There’s only one thing I can think of. I slowly open the case again. I may never have done this myself, but I’ve seen it done enough that I know what to do. I pull each piece out, laying them out on the island. Mercer is watching me closely. 

I stare down at the items, reaching out to align the spoon with the syringe. I’m stalling, trying to buy time. _This is a really shit idea, Echolls._ A part of me wants this. I haven’t craved this part of my life, but the thought of what’s to come if this doesn’t work, has a small part of me craving the oblivion it can provide me. If I can’t save Veronica, then I don’t want to live. I pick up the baggie, carefully opening it. I pour the white powder into the spoon. Picking up the small vial of distilled water, I add a few drops to dissolve the powder. 

I lift the spoon, picking up the lighter. I hesitate, glancing one last time at Veronica. Her eye slants towards me. I become aware of a wetness on my cheeks, realize I’m crying. Mercer starts to laugh as I flick the lighter. I mouth _I’m sorry_ to her. I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with anything better. This probably won’t work, but at least I’ll have tried. This is not how I ever thought our epic story would end. 

I watch as the liquid starts to bubble. Taking the syringe, I use it to suction up the heroin. I hold it up to the light, tapping it gently with my forefinger, removing the air bubbles. I press the squirting a little of the liquid before laying it down.

Mercer is watching me closely, the gun still held to Veronica’s head. I glance around the room, still hoping another solution will present itself. _This is beyond the stupidest idea I’ve ever had._ I roll up my sleeve, taking note of the faint cigarette scars on the inside of my elbow. 

I block out Mercer, focusing entirely on Veronica. Battered and bruised, she still emanates a strength and beauty that I am in awe of. If I’m going to die, at least I got a chance to see her again and can gaze upon her adoringly as my eyes close forever. Veronica’s eye drifts closed, a tear escaping. Grasping the syringe, I struggle to keep my hands from shaking. 

Veronica’s eye has opened again, and she stares at me. She gives an infinitesimal shake of her head. _Is she giving me a signal?_

Mercer’s entire attention is on me. The gun has dropped a few inches, almost resting on her shoulder now. He watches with rapt attention, slowly licking his lips while his gaze devours the syringe in my hand. The jackass in me can’t resist one final taunt, seeing the hunger in his eyes.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take this yourself?” I hold the syringe out to him, shifting slightly closer. I flip the needle side toward him. I’m only going to get one chance. 

His gaze follows the syringe’s movement before swinging back up to my face. My muscles coil while I prepare to make my move, ensuring his attention remains on me. His mouth opens to respond, but whatever he was going to say is lost in a grunt as Veronica punches an elbow into his stomach. She tries to scramble away from him, but the chair is still attached to one of her ankles, throwing her off balance. Mercer recovers quickly, jerking her back using the chair. She stumbles, but spins to face him, bruised face defiant. 

I’m moving even before he raises his hand holding the gun, desperate to reach her, but I’m too slow. He backhands the side of her head with the pistol. Everything seems like it’s happening in slow motion. Veronica crumbles to the ground, coming to lay still next to Piz’s body. 

A primal roar rips through the air and it takes a second for me to register that it came from me. I hurl my body into Mercer’s. He drops the gun in surprise and it skitters across the floor. I take advantage of his surprise and land a right hook to his stomach. He doubles over and I follow it up with a left cross against his chin. Head bowed, as he clutches his stomach, he slams his shoulder into my stomach, knocking me back. In the back of my mind, the thought that he must have worked out in prison resides. When I last fought him, it wasn’t so much as a fight as a slaughter. Still as good as he’s gotten, I’m fueled by rage and grief. More than that, I’m fueled by love and protectiveness over Veronica Mars. 

Instead of engaging me again, he turns and runs for the gun, launching himself across the floor. I follow, intent on beating him to a bloody pulp. His hand closes on the gun and he swings it towards me. I pause for a split second before hurling myself at him. 

For the second time, a shot rings loudly through the house. My eyes close and I wait for the pain, but other than the ringing in my ears, there’s nothing. I open my eyes to see Mercer on the floor, a neat hole in his forehead. 

_Veronica._

I rush to her side, gently picking her up. My hand runs carefully over her face and comes away wet . There’s blood pooled in her beautiful blonde locks and on the floor. I pull her close to me, tears blurring my vision as I call for her. 

“Veronica, please wake up. I love you veronica. Come back to me. I can’t live without you. Please wake up, please I love you, please wake up. Come back to me Bobcat. I need you.” A hand on my shoulder startles me and I clutch her to me protectively. 

The face of the man before me is etched in despair as he looks at his still daughter. Tears well in his eyes, those same eyes he passed on to his daughter, spilling over as he kneels beside me. 

In the distance a siren wails. 


	20. Chapter 20

_**Logan POV** _

Two days. Two long, excruciating, days. Forty-eight hours, seven minutes and 35 seconds, 36 seconds. That’s how long Veronica has been unconscious. The doctors are swirling around Keith and I, using words like swelling, blood loss, and temporal lobe damage. None of it makes sense. I hold vigil at her bedside, holding the hand not hooked up to wires, my eyes dry and itchy. I can’t make myself look away. My heart, the woman I love looks smaller than she really is. Her personality is gone, replaced by a waxy slackness. No one can tell me if she’s going to wake up or when. If Mercer wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him with my bare hands. My hand clenches around hers, afraid of hurting her, I let go, taking a deep breath. Once my heartbeat stops racing, I take her hand again. 

_Please wake up, I love you Veronica, please wake up. Come back to me, Bobcat. I need you._

The repetition has been running through my head now for forty-eight hours, ten minutes and 15 seconds. Each second she doesn’t wake is a dagger to my soul. 

Keith shifts in his seat on the other side of the bed. I know the despair etched into his face as he watches his only daughter lay there,mirrors my own. We are alone and together in our grief. 

After the ambulance and police came, EMTs shoved me aside, pulling Veronica from my arms. Only Keith’s hand on my shoulder kept me from fighting my way back to her. His voice talking to me allowed them to try to help her. When they strapped her down and whisked her away in the ambulance, a piece of my soul left with her. As desperately as I wanted to stay by her side, they forced me to stay and answer questions, endless questions. Who shot who? What happened? Why were you there? I told the story numbly, just trying to get through everything quickly so I could get to Veronica. 

I knew Keith felt the same, and the shared emotions formed a fragile connection between us. One of us had to get to her, make sure she was safe and okay. 

As I gaze on the father of the woman I love, I consider our conversation the first night. It was the only comfort in all the despair. 

_Flashback_

“I think we’re done here, Lieutenant Echolls. If you can think of anything else, please let me know.” The police officer taking my statement holds out a card to me. I take it, nodding agreement. “You’re free to go now.” The officer’s concerned gaze takes in the blood on my clothes and hands. “You should get yourself looked over by one of the EMTs.” 

I nod again, looking down at the blood. Her blood. Once again, I’ve come away with hardly a scratch while Veronica took the brunt of the pain. Not needed anymore, I get up to find Keith. Veronica would want me to check on her father. He killed a man for her. It doesn’t matter that I was the one Mercer was pointing the gun at; I know Keith shot him for Veronica. 

I wander through the house, trying to find Keith. Finally, I hear voices from the library and I enter the room quietly, coming to parade rest just inside the door. Another police officer, older than the one who took my statement, sits across the desk from Keith, taking notes as Keith speaks in a dull monotone. 

“Stosh came to see me in New York. He claimed he was worried about Veronica. They had broken up, and he was afraid that she was going to get involved with Logan again. He appeared very agitated, suggesting that Logan would hurt Veronica. He mentioned Logan’s history as a justification for his fears. There was something off about his insistence that I tell him where Veronica and Logan had gone. Veronica called while he was there. I took the call in another room, he must have overheard me saying where the cabin was and came here to find her.”

“And you decided to follow down here based on this one conversation?” I was wondering this too. It didn’t seem like much to go on, and Keith Mars was a man who liked to have all the facts before making a decision. Piz being scared that Veronica and I would get together seems like a normal reaction for a jilted boyfriend, even if I wasn’t the reason for the jilting. 

“It raised my suspicions, but it wasn’t what tipped me off. Veronica had suggested that I check into what Mercer Hayes has been doing since his release from prison. A friend and I were able to track down where he was living outside New York City and who he had been talking to online. Apparently, he had presented himself to Stosh as a Hudson Moros, befriending him.”

Moros, the personified spirit of impending doom, that’s a little on the nose. Mercer was always one for the subtle joke. Of course, Piz never saw through it. 

“Together, they came up with a plan to get Logan to come east, but I think something went wrong when he and Veronica got together. At least that’s what the transcripts made it sound like. I don’t think Piz was expecting Logan to see Veronica. He thought that he and this Hudson character would lure him out here and then kill him so he wouldn’t ever be a problem for Veronica again. Of course, Mercer had a vendetta with both Logan and Veronica, and he always planned to kill them both. When I found out, I rented a car and drove straight here.” There’s no emotion in Keith’s voice. He could be talking about the weather or the Dodgers for all the inflection in his tone, but his eyes have a wild cast to them. 

“And when you arrived, what happened?” The officer prompts Keith, who shudders slightly. I’d like to know what happened too. One second I was staring down the barrel of a gun, sure that it was the end and the next, Mercer was dead and Veronica was lying bleeding on the floor. 

“Stosh was lying in a pool of blood, dead from a close range shot to the chest. Veronica was unconscious on the floor. Mercer and Logan were fighting. Mercer got a hold of a gun lying on the floor and aimed at Logan. I didn’t think, I drew my own weapon and fired.” Keith bows his head, silently mourning the need to kill, to eliminate the need for justice. Somehow I doubt he was mourning Mercer’s passing. “I couldn’t let him kill Logan.”

The officer asks a few more questions before releasing Keith, telling him they’ll be in touch, but it looks like self-defense and there probably won’t be any charges based on the circumstances. Keith shakes the man’s hand and goes to leave the room, his eyes locking on mine. He tilts his head, indicating that I should follow him. 

Together we walk out of the house where police still swarm, putting up ‘do not cross tape’. A fleeting thought comes to me that I should call Mike and fill him in on everything, but right now all I want is to get to the hospital and see Veronica. I need to see her, every cell in my body screaming for her. Keith is silent as we get to his rental in the driveway. Finally he pins me with an intense gaze, sizing me up. 

“Do you have a car here?” The words are quiet, but there’s a roughness to his voice, as if all the fear and despair he’s been holding back for the past few hours is trying to escape and he’s wrestling it down. I nod, not trusting my own voice. 

“Okay then.” He nods as if that answers everything, and my eyes narrow in confusion. _Is he telling me to leave, that my part in all of this is over?_ I straighten my shoulders, preparing for a fight. If he thinks I’m just going to slink off back to California without seeing Veronica first, he’s got another thing coming. I know he’s never liked me, never thought I was good enough for his daughter. Most of the time, I couldn’t blame him. But Veronica’s father or not, no one is keeping me from her. Before I can say anything, he continues. “Do you mind driving, I’m not sure I can manage.”

Relief shivers through me when I realize he’s not dismissing me. 

I lead the way to the garage where I parked the Audi a million years ago. Keith climbs into the passenger seat, leaning his head back, eyes closed, taking deep shallow breaths. Everything he’s been holding back pours out of him as he shakes, tears streaming from his closed eyes. 

I sit quietly, letting him have his moment, just as he allowed me mine when I held onto Veronica. My eyes remain fixed on my hands where they grip the steering wheel, still covered in her blood. Keith takes a shaky breath and reaches for his seatbelt. Without looking at me, he waves a hand indicating I should drive. 

I don’t know where the hospital is, so I have to find it using the GPS. We drive in silence for a few minutes, neither one of us sure what to say at this point. I want to comfort him, but anything I think to say just seems awkward. Besides, how can I tell him she’ll be okay when I don’t know? When the fear is choking me? 

Keith breaks the silence first. “I don’t hate you.”

My head whips to the right to look at him. His eyes are still closed, hands curled into balls in his lap. 

“Thank you?” I stutter the words out, unsure what the correct response to this statement is. 

“You were reckless and wild when you were younger. You kept hurting her, I didn’t think it was healthy for her to keep going back to you. When you cheated on her and gave her an STD, but she still took you back, it just seemed easier to hate you. I didn’t trust you not to hurt her again. But I always knew how much you loved her and how much she loved you.”

My eyes widen at his words, surprised. I sputter, trying to respond, but it takes me several seconds to form the words coherently.

“I never cheated on her and I never gave her an STD.” Keith glares at me, but I hold my ground. “I did a lot of shitty things to Veronica, beyond that year after Lilly died, when I let my grief and rage guide me to hurt a girl I loved. First and foremost of my mistakes was never fighting for her after that first break up or any of the ones that came after. I told myself that I knew her inside and out, but I just took everything she said at face value. I was too caught up in my own self-loathing, unable to believe that she could really love me, to see that she was just mad. Instead, I immediately set out to fulfill my own self-destructive prophecy. You’re right, I wasn’t healthy for her back then. I was too damaged by my own trauma and it led to me making stupid mistakes, costing me the only woman I’ve ever truly loved. But I never cheated on her and I certainly didn’t give her an STD.”

I keep my eyes on the road, refusing to look at Keith as he stares at me. As much as I would like him to accept me, I’m not going to let him dictate what happens with Veronica and I. I’m not the fucked up teenager I once was and it’s time Keith saw that and treated me as the man I am today. 

“But at the trial, your...Aaron’s lawyer said she had chlamydia.” Keith’s voice is wondering, but it doesn’t hold the judgement and harshness of a few minutes ago. 

“Not me. We hadn’t slept together then.” There’s really no point in denying that I’ve slept with his daughter, he would see it as a lie, but this is the truth. We didn’t sleep together until after graduation. Knowing what I did about how she was violated, I didn’t want to pressure her, letting her decide in her own time what she was comfortable with. 

“Duncan?” Keith’s voice is resigned. I think about correcting him, but that would lead to a conversation and topic that I can’t share. It’s up to Veronica to tell her dad the truth about what happened back then. I shrug, avoiding the question. 

“She said you slept with Madison and that’s why you broke up the last time.” Keith Mars is like a dog with a bone. He has an opinion of what I’ve done, and it will take a miracle to change it. I’m hoping for a lot of miracles today as I think of the woman currently in the hospital alone. 

“A drunken night in Aspen that I barely remember after I broke up with her before winter break our freshman year. We weren’t together at the time, but she’s always hated Madison. She thought I did it to hurt her. She told me she couldn’t get over it.” My voice drops to a whisper on the last words and I shudder at the pain the memory of those words invoke in me. It’s still something I hear echoing in my nightmares. _This is something I’m never getting over._

If only I could have realized that it was her pain speaking, maybe I wouldn’t have asked Parker out and she never would have given Piz a chance. All of this is my fault. Mercer in her life, targeting her is my fault because I trusted the asshole. Her relationship with Piz, my fault because I couldn’t believe that she would ever get over it, couldn’t believe that she loved me in the first place. All my fault. I may not have done what Keith thought, but what I said about not being healthy for her back then still holds true now. She is safer without me in her life. 

“Logan, I’m sorry. I thought, well, you know what I thought. But I always knew that you loved her. When Stosh said he was afraid you would hurt her physically, it was what tipped me off he was somehow involved in all this. That’s why I asked Mac to check his records.” Keith places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. I nod curtly. 

The GPS lady’s voice announces that we have arrived at our destination, and Keith’s hand falls away from my shoulder as I look for a place to park. 

I take a deep breath when I undo my seatbelt, preparing for the worst, but hoping for the best. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Keith doing the same. Though nothing more is said, it feels like a wall that used to be between us has fallen. We’re joined in fear and love of the woman somewhere inside. 

_End Flashback_

Keith stands up from his vigil, stretching out tight muscles. “I’m going to grab some coffee.” I nod, not looking up from Veronica. I’ve barely left her side in all this time, only leaving when absolutely necessary. Keith doesn’t ask if I want coffee and I don’t watch as he leaves. He’ll be back in a few minutes with a cup of disgusting hospital coffee for me, which I’ll drink gratefully before going back to my vigil.

A nurse comes in, Sarah, the motherly nurse who checks Veronica’s vitals with calm and caring efficiency. Veronica has two full-time nurses, switching off every twelve hours. Sarah, I like, but Julia, I want to unleash the jackass on, every time her shift comes around. The smug bitch seems to think hitting on a guy clinging to a woman’s hand for days, waiting for her to wake up, is perfectly okay. Despite my lack of interest, she continues to try each and every time she comes into Veronica’s room. If she wasn’t a competent neuro nurse and one of only two in this tiny hospital, I’d have let loose on her the first day. At least Keith seemed amused at my discomfort. 

Sarah talks to Veronica as she works, having explained to me that even in a coma, _I hate that fucking word,_ Veronica can still hear us. I haven’t spoken much out loud since I’ve been here, not really comfortable pouring out my heart in front of Keith even if we do have a sort of truce now. I’m hoping she can hear the mantra in my head, repeating over and over again and comes back to me soon. 

Sarah leaves and I’m alone with Veronica for the first time in a long time. Unsure how long Keith will be gone, I start whispering to her. It’s a rambling, babbling mess, but if it helps her come back to me, I don’t care. 

“Veronica, please come back to me, baby. I love you so much. I need you. Please wake up, Sugarpuss, please.” Tears stream down my face, shocking me a little. After all I’ve cried the past forty-eight hours forty seven minutes and 11 seconds, I didn’t think I had anything left in me, subsiding in a numb stupor. 

I gaze at her adoringly, gently squeezing her hand. _Was that? Did her eyelids just twitch?_ I continue whispering to her, begging her to wake up. _There, she squeezed my hand!_

“Veronica?” Her eyelids twitch again and there’s a slight pressure on the hand holding hers. 

I’m so tired, I don’t know if I’m just imagining things. Wishful thinking on my part. 

I watch her face closely. No, I'm not imagining things. Her eyes definitely twitched. Is she waking up? Should I call the nurse? What did the doctor say? I can’t think straight, I’m scared to move in case she is waking up and I’m not there when she opens her eyes. 

“Please come back to me. I love you so much.” Before I can finish my litany, Veronica’s eyes open. “Veronica?” 

_**Veronica POV** _

The light is blinding, stabbing jags of lightning in my head. I have no idea where I am or what’s going on, and all I can focus on is the pain. White hot, blinding pain. Keeping my eyes closed seems to help, but I want to know where I am. What’s happened that I hurt this much? My eyes open a sliver and I see a blur leaning close to me. Instinctually, I pull back even as the blur tries speaking to me. 

Forcing my eyes open a little more, the blur appears to be hovering over me. Fear clenches my stomach as I try to make sense of where I am. The pain whips through my brain causing me to flinch, which only serves to emphasize the pain even more. It’s a vicious catch-22 cycle I find myself in. 

Even though I haven’t fully opened my eyes, I’m just so tired. A buzzing sound fills my ears. Slowly, I start to remember things. Mercer, Piz, blood, Logan. 

I try to force my eyes to focus, clawing my way up out of the haze of pain that surrounds me. _Logan, I have to find Logan._

The blur is still there, but it's becoming more clear. It’s a face, fuzzy, blurred at the edges as if I’m seeing it through a lense, but I would know that face anywhere. It’s the face I see in my dreams, the face of the one I love above all others. 

“Logan.” The words are barely a sigh, but it makes the face above me split into a broad grin. I try to smile back, but the throbbing in my head is overwhelming, making me nauseous. Suddenly, Logan is gone and a new blur replaces him. _No, no, where’s Logan? Bring Logan back!_ I can feel darkness wrapping around me. It drags me back under and I’m too tired to fight. 

_**Logan POV** _

Veronica opens her eyes, but, at first, they bounce all over the room. She’s unable to focus on one thing. Finally they land on me, and widen slightly. I lean over her, reaching for the nurse call button on the other side. She startles and starts to shake slightly. I run a hand down her arm, trying to calm her, but it only serves to make her more agitated. 

Finally reaching the call button, I press it several times. 

“Veronica, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Logan.” Her voice is so quiet, I’m not sure I even heard her, but I smile anyway.

“Yes, Bobcat, it’s me. I’m here.” 

Sarah rushes in, pushing me gently out of the way. “Logan, you need to give me room to work.” 

I stand back, watching while Sarah does her thing. She asks questions, but Veronica looks like she’s slipping back into sleep. 

Sarah finishes adjusting the monitors attached to Veronica. She adjusts one of the IV drips before turning to me. 

“Logan, I’ve paged the doctor, but can I speak to you for a second outside?” I glance at Veronica, who has settled back on the pillows, her eyes drifting shut. A part of me wants to scream at her to stay awake. It’s been too long since I’ve gotten the chance to look into those eyes. I nod to Sarah. 

Before following Sarah into the hallway, I lean down and whisper in Veronica’s ear, “I’ll be back. I love you Veronica.” She’s already drifted off to sleep but I pause for a second to gaze upon her. _She woke up once, she’ll wake up again._

In the hallway, Sarah is leaning against the wall, a serious expression clouding her otherwise kind face. “Logan, you need to prepare yourself. Veronica is very disoriented, and that’s normal for someone waking up from an unconscious state. While it’s a good sign that she’s woken up, we won’t know the extent of the damage until she’s more awake. Even if she’s medically okay, there are a lot of residual effects from the type of trauma she’s experienced. We’ll need to watch her closely for signs of Traumatic Brain Injury or TBI. Are you familiar with what that is?” Sarah’s tone is soothing, but the words are alarming. 

“Yeah, we get training on it and PTSD before and after deployments so we know what to look for in our troops.” I know the doctor mentioned this as a possibility, but I can’t believe that we’ve come this far for something like this to happen. 

“It’s possible that she won’t have any long-term effects, but we won’t know for sure, and these kinds of injuries can manifest symptoms months after the fact. For now, she’s going to be tired and she may sleep a lot.”

“Hasn’t she been sleeping for the past two days?” I know I’m being selfish, but I just want to talk to her. I desperately want to stay and see that she’s okay for myself but my leave is ending. 

When I called my CO after the police took my statement, he agreed to extend my leave for four more days, but was firm that there would be no more extensions. I was lucky to get even that since when I reported that I had been involved in a crime, he was furious. I may have been the victim of said crimbe, but the United States Navy didn’t like their officers involved in any criminal activity. They don’t like a lot of press around their officers unless they are controlling it. I had already pushed the limits with my relationship with Carrie so I couldn’t afford to make any more waves. 

“Yes, and no. She was in a coma, but that’s not like normal sleep. We find the body doesn’t really get the rest it needs. Anyway, I don’t want to alarm you and the doctor will be here shortly. I can see how much she means to you and I want you prepared ahead of time for what the doctor might say.” Sarah places a comforting hand on my shoulder before leaving me in the hallway. 

I lean against the wall, taking some deep breaths to compose myself. I run through the positive in my mind. Veronica is awake. She hopefully will be okay. I’m running a little short on the positive right now without more information on her condition. The negatives seem to take up a lot more real estate in my head. 

I have to leave in two days. A little less, if I wanted to do the math to the exact hour and minutes, but I’m trying to delay that particular reality a bit longer. I don’t know where we stand. The last time we were together before the incident, everything was awkward again. 

I had run from her after getting all hot and heavy that morning, instead of handling things like an adult. I was going to talk to her when I got back to the cabin, but I never got the chance. Our lives are separate. A few days around each other is not enough to warrant one of us making a major life change, even if I would give up anything to be with her again. Of course, there is the fact of my commitment to the military that doesn’t allow me to pick and move wherever I wish. Ironic how Logan Echolls who refused to follow the rules voluntarily gave up his free will to serve his country. I’ve never regretted my decision to join the Navy before now. It saved my life, gave me purpose, made me the man she said she was proud of. But right now, yeah, I’m not sure I would make the same decision since it’s one more thing holding us apart. Hindsight is 2020 and 2020 is a fucking bitch. I run my hands through my hair, blowing out an exasperated sigh. 

Keith returns just as the doctor arrives, handing me a cup of stale coffee. I take it gratefully, sipping the hot liquid slowly while the three of us head back into the room. Veronica is asleep again, but she looks more peaceful than before, which I take as a good sign. Keith and I hang back as the doctor runs some tests on Veronica, waking her up to check on her reflexes. She’s still disoriented and flinches when the doctor touches her. Finally, the doctor allows her to fall back asleep, motioning Keith out into the hall. I start to follow but the doctor gives me a look and I turn back to take up my vigil at Veronica’s bedside again. 

After two days, I know the drill. I’m not family, so I don’t get access to the information first hand. Only Sarah has been willing to break that rule for me, understanding without anyone having to tell her, how much Veronica means to me. It’s okay though, Keith and I have an uneasy truce and I know he’ll repeat everything practically verbatim once he returns to the room. 

For now, I watch Veronica sleep, reaching out to take her slack hand in mine. I caress my fingertips softly against the back of her hand and over her knuckles, but this time instead of a squeeze in return, Veronica’s eyes fly open in panic. Tremors run through her entire body and she wrenches her hand away from mine. 

“Veronica?” I try to keep my voice calm, soothing. _She’s disoriented._ Even as I tell myself that, repeating what Sarah said, a part of me can’t help but wonder if she’s afraid of me. Her eyes are still wide in fear, but the shuddering has stopped. I try to reach for her hand again, wanting to provide her what physical comfort I can, but she pulls it further away, almost dislodging her oxygen monitor, her body trembling again. Not wanting to cause her any further distress, I lean away from her. 

“You’re okay, Veronica. You’re in the hospital, but you’re going to be okay.” I don’t know who I’m really telling this to since she seems to be drifting back to sleep again, her eyes fixed on me, slowly closing. 

Keith comes back in and takes up his position on the other side of Veronica, reaching for her hand on that side. My mouth opens to warn him about her reaction, but Veronica doesn’t seem to register his touch. Not like she did mine. _I must have just startled her. Sarah said she would be disoriented for some time._

“So what did the doctor say?” Keith sighs heavily and I brace myself for the worst. 

“Her reflexes are all good, thank goodness, and the swelling has completely subsided. He doesn’t think there’s going to be any long-term brain damage, but he won’t know for sure until she’s a little more alert. He’s going to order some more tests for her in the morning.” That’s not nearly as bad as I thought, definitely not enough to warrant the despondent sigh earlier. 

“Did he say anything else?” I narrow my eyes in suspicion, sure there’s something wrong that he doesn’t want to tell me about. _Did something more happen before I got there?_ Keith answers before I can spiral completely. 

“He said that even if she’s okay physically, there might be other symptoms as a result of a traumatic brain injury. He said there could be physical and emotional symptoms and that she might have trouble remembering things or slurred speech. She also might have PTSD as a result of both the brain injury and the incident. It’s not insurmountable, but it could affect her in so many ways.” His eyes are glassy and I can see his mind running through the various things that could occur. 

Most of this I already know because of the extensive training I’ve received over the years in the Navy. The list is varied and we won’t know the full extent of the damage until she’s completely healed and even then the symptoms can manifest later, sometimes months or years after the fact. Keith wipes his eyes, dashing away the tears that threaten to fall. “We’ll have to take it day by day.”

He’s including me in the day by day, but the reality is that I’m not part of her day-to-day life. Tears well up in my own eyes at the thought of not being able to help her through this. I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. I’m here now, I’ll do what I can. 

We sit in silent vigil. If Keith notices that I’m not holding Veronica’s hand as I have been for the past two days, he doesn’t mention it. We’re both wrapped up in our individual thoughts, worried about the woman between us that we love. 

Mike comes in around seven that night. I called him from the hospital after talking to my CO and he rushed back from DC as soon as he could. He wanted to stay at the hospital, but it was hard enough convincing them to let Keith and I stay by her side. Mike was kind enough to not push me away and had been going back and forth from the cabin and the hospital, bringing us food while overseeing the cleanup of the cabin. 

“I’ve decided to gut the kitchen completely. Pixie-chick always loved this place and so I thought I would do a remodel and let her decorate it again. I’m hoping it can become a place she will be comfortable in again. She really loved that house.” Mike launches into his plan without so much as a _hi, how are you_. His observant eyes narrow as he notices the change in the room. He comes to stand beside me, gazing down at Veronica still asleep in the bed. “What did I miss?”

I leave it to Keith to fill him in, suddenly overcome with emotions at the mention of the cabin. I was only there one night, but I knew from the second I saw it that it was our home. It was the home Veronica and I would have made if we had ever made it that long. Knowing that she designed it for us in the backwoods of West Virginia when we hadn’t spoken in years gave me hope. Now, it was tainted by Piz and Mercer; it seems like the perfect metaphor for us and the hope for a future. Even when we have something beautiful, the darkness of the world always seems to come to rip it away. 

Focusing on Veronica’s peaceful face helps to calm me down. I see Mike watching me out of the corner of my eye while he and Keith continue talking. If I’m lucky I can avoid being alone with Mike for a while yet. He’s been trying to catch me alone since he got back from DC, but Keith and I haven’t really left Veronica’s side all this time. While I’ve really come to like Mike, I just can’t handle going over what happened again. It’s easier to be alone with my thoughts for now. 

I seethe with jealousy as Keith continues to hold Veronica’s hand. Mike leans past me a tender hand reaching to caress her face. Veronica continues to sleep peacefully. Before turning to grab a chair, Mike places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. I nod, silently thanking him for his support. 

We sit in silence for a while, everyone watching a woman who would freak out if she knew she was being watched. I thought it would be better when she woke up but everything seems more unsettled than before. How is it that we can face down murderers, rapists, yet trying to live a day to day life seems more perilous? 

Veronica’s eyes flutter and instinctively, I reach out to take her hand. I interlace our fingers gently. Veronica yanks her hand away from mine, her eyes snapping open. On the other side of her, Keith is still holding her hand. As tremors shake her body more violently than before, she clings harder to her father’s hand. 

“Veronica?” I try to keep my voice as calm as I can, but confusion and fear are threatening to take over. Veronica’s breathing is harsh and she flinches away at the sound of my voice. Her eyes are wide with terror and everything in me wants to fix this for her, take her in my arms and keep her safe, but I’m fooling myself. Nothing about me is safe. Mike crowds closer, gently pushing me away. I stand, circling the bed to stand at the edge as Mike leans close to Veronica, whispering in her ear. 

“Breath with me, in 2, 3, 4, out 2, 3, 4.” Mike repeats the words while Veronica focuses on him. Her heart rate and breathing slow. Mike leans over and kisses her forehead. Veronica leans into the touch, her eyes closing briefly. 

“Veronica, honey?” Keith’s voice reflects how tired he is, but his face has split into a huge smile at the sight of his beloved daughter waking up. Veronica looks from Mike to Keith, carefully avoiding looking at me. 

A stabbing pain through my chest almost drops me to my knees. I remember this pain. This sharpness that leaves me unable to breath and fills me with hopelessness. The last time it filled me was the night that Veronica told me I was out of her life forever. Despite the lack of surprise in this turn of events, it doesn’t change the fact that all my hopes and dreams are falling apart right in front of me. Ever since that day at the Camelot, I’ve only wanted to protect, yet somehow instead I’ve only ever hurt her. 

It started after Lilly died, when I lashed out at her in my grief and anger starting a chain reaction that even now threatens her. I’m the root cause of everything awful that’s ever happened to her. If I hadn’t dated Lilly, she never would have met my father, never would have fucked him, never would have died, and Veronica could have continued living in her pink fairy tale. It’s no wonder that she can’t stand my touch now. 

Overwhelmed, but not wanting to put more on her, I back away. Keith looks at me sharply, but I shake my head. “I’m going to grab some coffee.” Mike's gaze is intense, and he watches me practically run from the room. I just need some time to process. There’s no way she’s going to want me now. There’s too much pain attached to me. I need to grieve the loss of my last chance with the woman I love and to go on with my empty life.

_**Veronica POV** _

I’m on fire, trapped in the freezer, standing on a roof, electricity in the air. Lightning touches my hand and I wake, confused and afraid. I can’t think straight. Shadows surround me and I feel like I’m suffocating. I hear a voice in my ear. 

“Breath with me, in 2, 3, 4 out 2, 3, 4.” I know that voice. I focus on the shadow and the voice, slowly calming down. 

Awareness of my surroundings comes faster now, my eyes starting to clear. Mike hovers above me, still quietly chanting in my ear. His voice soothing. My dad is to my right, grasping my hand as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight. I search the room for the other face I want to see, but the three of us are the only ones in the room. Everything is jumbled in my mind, but it’s clear I’m in the hospital. _What happened?_

I try to piece together what I can remember, but there are a lot of blanks. I get snippets, but I can’t tell what’s real and what’s leftover from my dreams. I could have sworn Logan was here. The last thing I remember clearly is getting a note, _Someday is soon,_ and photos of Logan. I remember running to Mike at the Hamptons house, but nothing else until now. 

“Logan?” My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, and my throat burns as I try to ask about him. My dad’s forehead wrinkles while he frowns. Mike glances towards the door, concern etched on his face before turning back to me. 

“He’ll be back. He just had to get something.” _He’s here. Logan is here._ More memories, or are they dreams, flood my mind. Long talks in a car, a kiss on a train. None of that can be real. Logan and I aren’t ones for long talks, and I’ve never been on a train with him. Still, he’s here. I’m in the hospital and Logan is here. My face crumples as I remember that he’s with Carrie and I’m with Piz.

I whimper as images of Piz flash before me. Piz hitting me, his lifeless body lying in a pool of blood. I shake my head, feeling my body shaking, trying to dispel the images. _It can’t be true._

Mike places his hands on my shoulders and begins his chant again. “Breath with me, in 1, 2, 3, 4 out 1, 2, 3, 4.” It’s familiar and calming. My breathing slows and the images fade, the gray blankness settling over my recollection of the past few days. 

My dad holds a cup with straw to my lips, and I take a sip of cool water. It soothes the fire in my throat and my voice is not as raspy when I speak again. 

“What happened?” My dad’s gaze shifts to Mike, his eyes crinkling with unspoken questions, almost as if he’s asking for permission for something. Mike nods slightly. 

“There was an incident, and you hit your head.” I latch onto my dad’s use of the word incident. So not a car accident or something like that. _Does it have anything to do with the note and the photos?_ _Is Logan hurt too? Is that why they’re being so cagey, eyes shifting around guiltily?_

“Veronica, what do you remember?” Mike’s voice is laced with concern. Something horrific must have happened because Mike never calls me Veronica. It’s always Pixie-chick, occasionally shortened to just Pixie. I can’t remember the last time he called me Veronica. Y _es, you can. It was when he made you face up to what Duncan really did to you that night at Shelley’s._ My nose scrunches at the thought of that long ago night. I try to focus on the here and now, piecing together what has happened. 

“A note. I got a note and photos. Of Logan.” Mike nods encouragingly as I stutter through what I remember. “The Hamptons.”

I shake my head, but nothing else comes to me. 

“Honey, that was six days ago. You got photos and a note threatening Logan, and you ran off to Mike’s. Logan found out you were missing and flew out here to help find you.” My dad glances at Mike again and I can feel rage bubbling up. _What aren’t they telling me? Where is Logan?_

“Where is Logan?” My voice is stronger now, but it cracks with fear. 

“He’s okay, Pixie-chick. He wasn’t hurt.” Mike takes my hand in his, providing comfort in the simple gesture. He knows what Logan means to me, he wouldn’t lie to me. “He’ll be back soon, I promise. Right now though, we need to focus on you. You and Logan were trying to figure out who sent the note, and the three of us left New York to keep you both safe.”

“Gorya Sorokin.” My dad’s eyes widen in surprise at the name of a known mobster. “He sent the note.” 

Mike shakes his head. “We thought it was him, but he’s still in prison. It was Mercer Hayes. He wanted to get revenge against you and Logan for exposing him as the Hearst Rapist.” 

“No, he was friends with Logan. That doesn’t make sense.” Even as I say it a memory comes to me. Logan sitting on a bed confessing how he went after Mercer, claiming blame for everything. “Logan beat him up.” It comes out as a whisper, but Mike nods anyway, confirming my memory as real. 

It’s like a floodgate opens and everything from the past six days comes pouring back in. _Mike’s drunken call to Logan that brought him out here. Fleeing the city and hiding out at the cabin in West Virginia. Piz, oh god Piz. Mercer forcing Logan to prepare a syringe of heroin, attacking me._ That’s where the memories end. Pain flares in my head and darkness overtakes me. 

_**Logan POV** _

Mike finds me while I sit outside on a bench in the serenity garden. I idly wonder if all hospitals have these spaces. A place where people can go to contemplate the fate of their loved ones insides. I suppose there’s also a chapel somewhere in the building behind me, but it’s not a place I would consider seeking out, never having heard an answer to my prayers before. 

I don’t look up as Mike sits down heavily next to me. We sit in silence for a few minutes, my gaze fixed on a small stone in the garden. The quote seems to have been put there just for me and Veronica. 

_“Our parting was like a stalemate...Neither of us won. Yet both of us lost. And worse still...that unshakeable feeling that nothing was ever really finished.” -Ranata Suzuki_

Finally, Mike breaks the silence. 

“Your thoughts are loud.” I glance at him briefly before turning back to stare at the stone. It’s a strange statement and not one I feel the need to respond to. I really just want to be alone right now. Most of what I’m feeling is overwhelming despair, but there’s a part of me, _the Aaron part_ , that’s burning with rage. To have gotten so close to having her in my life again and to have lost her all over again, makes me want to unleash my fury at an unfair world. 

I tense my jaw for fifteen seconds, releasing slowly while counting to thirty. I breath deeply and evenly. I begin to cycle through my body, tensing and releasing, trying to gain control of my anger. 

“Man, you realize I’m a therapist, I can tell what you’re doing there. Why don’t you talk to me? That is another anger management technique.” 

“I don’t want to talk.” I grit my teeth fairly spitting out the words. 

“I get that, but you’re not doing yourself or her any good, sitting down here stewing in your own fears. I’ve let you get away with this shit for two days now, but now it’s time to talk.” I scoff, my eyes rolling. 

“What good is talking going to do? Is it going to make her not tremble in fear when I touch her? Is it going to erase all the terrible things I’ve done or how everything bad in her life stems from me in some way? All I want is to protect her and instead I hurt her again and again. I saw it, I saw how I was destroying her years ago. It’s why I didn’t chase her all these years, why I let her go. It nearly killed me, but I knew she needed to get away from me. I’m not the safe choice. I love her, but I can’t hurt her again.” The Tears stream down my face, but I can’t be bothered to wipe them away. 

“Fuck, Logan.” Mike’s eyes widen in surprise, his voice laced with concern and he places a hand on my shoulder. I shrug him off, jumping up to pace around the serenity garden. Mike watches me, his gaze pensive. 

My burst of energy expends itself and I sag in exhaustion, bending at the waist to put my hands on my knees. I’ve barely moved, but I feel as winded as if I’ve ran twenty miles. Mike joins me, placing a comforting hand on my back. I turn my head to look at him, half expecting to see disgust at my outburst. Instead, his face is lined with worry. 

“I’ll be okay. I just need to figure out how to do this again.” To his credit, Mike doesn’t ask what this is. 

“Logan, you’re basing a lot of decisions on a few isolated incidents. You’ve been so focused on her I don’t think you realize what all this has done to you. Listen to yourself, this isn’t the guy I met a few days ago. It’s your own trauma talking right now.” 

He raises his hand again, but I flinch. I’m barely holding on, if you could even call it that. If he touches me, I know I’ll break. “Don’t make any decisions you can’t take back. You’ve had therapy, you know you’re not coming at this from a good place right now. Everything is too fresh and you’re backsliding. I wasn’t even there so I can’t even imagine what you witnessed, but you need to work through this before you walk away. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but you aren’t to blame for all of this. You owe it to her and yourself to try to talk before you just decide it’s all over. She just woke up, she’s disoriented, you’re a fucking mess. Hell, she doesn’t even know what all happened.”

I stand up straight, my eyes widening in confusion. “What do you mean? She doesn’t remember? She has amnesia?”

“Not complete, just surrounding the incident. It’s not uncommon in these types of situations. She sustained a pretty traumatic head injury. A little situational amnesia is pretty normal.” 

_Situational amnesia. Sarah mentioned that could happen. Maybe I am overreacting, my own stress from the past few days getting the best of me._ I try to take a deep calming breath, but I can feel the tidal wave of despair threatening to overwhelm me. The rage is better, more comfortable. 

“What does she remember?” _Does she know I’m here? Is she asking for me?_ I want to ask Mike but it seems selfish to be worried about myself when Veronica must be so scared having a blank spot in her memory. The horrors from her past that not remembering a period of time would bring up. Mike nods as he sees the understanding light my eyes. 

“At first all she remembered was getting the note and those photos of you. She remembered running to me in the Hamptons, but everything else was hazy. She did ask if you were okay.” He looks away, a classic sign of lying. _What is he not telling me?_

“Did she remember something else?” My voice is choked and I can barely get the words past the lump in my throat.

“I don’t know what all she remembered, but there was definitely a trigger of some sort. It was too much for her.” He trails off, his own eyes glassy. “She passed out to escape.”

“How is that even possible, how can a person make themselves pass out?” I’m trying to stay calm, taking deep breaths, but even I can hear the agitation and fear in my voice. 

“The human brain is capable of many amazing things to protect itself. Whatever she remembered was too overwhelming for her to deal with right now, so she shut herself down. It will take time, but she’ll be okay. She’s lived through a lot and she’s a strong woman. It’s just going to take some time.” 

The reminder of all that she’s lived through and my guilt in all of it threatens to send me spiralling again. Mike must sense that I’m about to lose it again because he grabs me in a hug. I try to push him away, but his arms tighten around me. “It’s not your fault, Logan. You’ve got to stop blaming yourself.”

Easier said than done. I’ve been in therapy for years trying to fix everything broken in me, trying to become a man I hoped Veronica could be proud of, the man she saw in me all those years ago. That doesn’t mean it erased my self-loathing or my belief that I ruin those I love. I shake my head, trying to break free again. Mike pulls me out of my living nightmare using the only words that can reach me in the darkness.

“She needs you.” _Veronica needed me. She never needed anything, but right now she needs me. I need to pull it together for her. I might only have a few days before I have to leave, but I can be there instead of hiding in my self-pity._

My body relaxes and Mike loosens his hold on me. 

“Thanks.” Mike smiles shyly. 

“Not exactly how I was hoping to get you in my arms, but…” He shrugs, his face breaking into a lascivious smirk. I bark a laugh at his terrible come on. I can definitely see why Veronica loves him so much. “Are you ready to go back?”

I nod, wiping my face of the remaining tears. I’ll need to stop in the bathroom to get rid of the evidence of my breakdown. For now, I focus on Mike’s words. _She needs me._ I’ll be damned if I’m not there for her. 

After a quick stop in the restroom for me to clean myself up, Mike and I make our way back to Veronica’s room. She’s still asleep, but her color seems better. Sarah is there, adjusting one of the bags on the IV pole. She gives me a small smile and touches my shoulder gently as she leaves the room. 

“Has she woken at all?” Mike directs the question at Keith, whose face is drawn as he stares down at his beautiful daughter. 

“Briefly, but she drifted off pretty quickly. At least this time she seemed calmer.” That’s a good sign, right? _Or maybe it’s because I wasn’t here to trigger whatever she’s seeing in her head._

My face must have shown my thoughts because Mike’s lips quirk down in a frown as he glances at me, slightly shaking his head. _Cowboy up Echolls. She needs you._

I approach the bed slowly, afraid of hurting her again. I stand at the foot of the bed, afraid to get closer, but I can’t resist touching her and reassuring myself she’s still here. I tentatively caress her feet under the blanket. Even asleep she seems to react to my presence. Her breathing becomes more labored, her closed eyes scrunching up as a wave of pain crosses her face. Her body shakes and I snatch my hands back as if burned. The glare I throw in Mike’s direction could not be clearer. _Sure, it’s not me. Isolated incidents, my ass._

She starts to calm down, slipping into a peaceful sleep once more, as soon as I’m not touching her. She needs me, but she needs me to not be here. I was fooling myself thinking I had a chance. My leave is almost up anyway. It’s time for me to let go of this dream and go back to California. 

My shoulders slump when I think of what’s waiting for me there. While I ended things with Carrie, I’m not so naïve to not realize that I’m still going to have to see her at least one more time to get my stuff back. At some point, I’m going to have to tell Dick where I’ve been. I’m sure that will be a fun conversation. 

I stand numbly, gazing down on the woman I love, slowly accepting the reality. At least I got to see her one last time. It wasn’t what I had dreamed of, but we had made progress. _Maybe, someday._ I cut myself off, refusing to think about the future or the potential to still have her in my life in some way or another. For now, the best thing I can do for her is say goodbye and let her heal. Mike is here. He fixed her when I broke her the last time. He’s much better suited to fixing her this time. 

Keith and Mike talk quietly, allowing me my silence. Each of them glance at me apprehensively every once in a while, but I ignore the looks, my gaze solely on Veronica. I want to memorize everything. I haven’t forgotten a second of the time I’ve had with her in all these years, but this time seems more final. 

Eight years ago, she told me I was out of her life, but I never truly believe it or wanted it. I always thought we’d find a way back to each other. Even when I buried my feelings for her in hate, drugs, and meaningless sex, I knew she was my other half. But some things aren’t meant to be, and as much as I want to be with her, I want her to be happy and healthy even more. Her life is here now and mine is somewhere off in the blue sky. It's time for me to say goodbye. 

_**Veronica POV** _

When I wake up this time, there are no nightmares lingering, further muddying my thoughts. Instead, I feel a warmth washing over me. _It’s safe, it’s home, it’s Logan._

My eyes snap open and rove around the room, searching for him. He’s here, I just know it. This feeling of being complete can only come from being near him. My eyes land on him where he stands at the foot of the bed, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. He smiles shyly at me, but doesn’t try to reach for me. I’m still hooked up to an IV pole and monitors. My head still hurts, the pain is fuzzy now, softened by the pain meds that must be in one of those IV bags. My mouth is dry again and I swallow several times trying to speak. 

I know if I could just reach him, the look of desolation etched in the lines around his glassy eyes would dissipate, but I can’t seem to get my body to move. I want to stay here with him, his intense gaze infusing me with calm, but the darkness beckons and I can’t make my eyes stay open. The last thing I see before I succumb to sleep again is him mouthing the words “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end. 
> 
> A huge thanks to my betas His_Beautiful_Girl and Bugaboo for all their help on this story. I know I say this every chapter, but I couldn't have done this without you.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Veronica POV** _

Every day, I get a little stronger. I’m able to stay awake for the entire day now, but I rarely choose to do so. I still get crippling headaches from time to time, but the pain meds help to keep the worst of the pain from assailing me. Physically, I’m doing much better than I was a few weeks ago. It’s the emotional side of me that seems to be down for the count. No amount of therapy has been able to lift the miasma of despair that I wallow in now. Sleep is both my friend and my enemy now. If I’m lucky, I hide in the darkness of nothingness. It hurts less than waking up and facing reality again. If I’m unlucky, nightmares of Mercer, Piz, Aaron, and Cassidy chase me until I’m more tired than if I didn’t sleep at all. The worst, though, are the nights I dream of _him_. In my dreams, we’re together, but something or someone always rips _him_ away from me. I try to save _him_ , to hold onto _him_ , but _he’s_ always gone. Sometimes _he_ just disappears like _he_ was never there and others, I’m left holding _him_ , blood pouring out of him, staining the ground beneath us, _his_ eyes closed forever. Those are the nights I wake up screaming, my clothes soaked in sweat, tears running down my face. Those are the nights where I know I’ll never be whole again. 

It took nearly a day and a half before I could stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, but when I did, I let my gaze roam wildly, frantically searching for _him_. The feeling of being whole was gone, and that more than the words my father spoke when I asked told me he had gone. Intellectually I knew that he would have to go, he’s in the military now, he doesn’t have any control over his life. If that’s all it was, I could have been patient, biding my time, healing, secure in the knowledge that he would return as soon as he was able. Or I would go to him. I figured it was my turn to chase him. 

The letter he left for me destroyed all hope. 

_**My dearest Veronica,** _

_**I’m sorry to be doing this by letter, but I had to return to duty and honestly, if I had to look into your eyes, I’m not sure I would have found the courage to do what I have to. I’m going to try not to mess this up, but it’s me and that’s the thing I do best when it comes to you. I didn’t come here to hurt you, but now I can’t stop.** _

_**I’m sorry, Veronica. I’m sorry for so much, but what I regret now is not being strong enough to let you go eight years ago. Maybe if I had, we wouldn’t be here now. I have brought you nothing but pain, even when I just wanted to love you.** _

_**You are the other half of my soul, but I am not the right person for you. You deserve so much more than I am. Love is not enough; I know that now. I’m no longer the young hopeless romantic and I can see the truth. If I try to stay, I will only bring you despair. I owe you more than that. I owe you everything. Everything good in me is because of you.** _

_**It’s time for me to grow up and stop living for a dream that will never come true. You are the best friend and lover I’ve ever known and you will always own a part of my soul, but I’m letting go of you now so you can live the life you deserve. It’s time for me to let you go, let you live your life free of fear and pain. I wish all the happiness in the world for you, even if it can’t be with me.** _

_**I love you Veronica. Still. Always.** _

_**-L** _

Mike waited until I was released from the hospital to give me that little gem. He probably didn’t trust me to do my physical therapy and rehab if I knew _he_ was really gone for good. He’s probably right. Lord knows I haven’t been handling the pain of rejection that well.

When the doctor said I was cleared to leave, my dad tried insisting that I return to Neptune with him. There was a bitter fight, but in the end, he agreed it was better if I stayed with Mike, who was more qualified to help me through my TBI and PTSD. My dad loves me but he doesn’t know what to do when faced with a hysterical daughter who flips between moods like a woman on super-PMS. The smallest things would set me off. A nurse’s aftershave that smelled like the one Piz used to wear would have me cowering in fear. My throat closed up, strangled by terror. Only Mike could calm me down. 

Mike suggested we return to New York, but I was done with that city. It held hope and hopelessness for me now. To everyone’s surprise, including my own, I wanted to go back to the cabin. Even though it held painful memories, it was also where I felt closest to _him_. As much as I longed for _him_ , I was also angry with _him_. Angry that _he_ could just leave me, that _he_ thought _he_ knew what I wanted and needed better than I did. How could _he_ tell me in one breath that I was the other half of _him_ and then let me go? 

I tried sleeping in the room we shared that one night, but the dreams were so bad that Mike suggested it would be better for me to just stay with him. Even if he couldn’t keep me from having the dreams, he could at least walk me through exercises when I awoke, helping me to gain some control on the chaos inside my mind. It also allowed him to monitor my medication intake, though he never said that. I know he was watching me closely for signs of addiction or suicidal thoughts. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to worry, but I couldn’t lie to him. 

Life didn’t hold the same meaning anymore. The future that I had planned seemed pointless now. It wasn’t my favorite thing in the first place, but now, I couldn’t find the energy to even pretend to care. What was the point of some big fancy career, if there wasn’t going to be anyone to share it with? 

My dad stayed with us for a week after they released me from the hospital, but he couldn't stay away from work any longer. I tried to put on a cheerful face for him so he wouldn’t worry so much when he left. My dad still calls every day. _See, phones do work._

I haven’t tried reaching out to _him_. _He_ made _his_ feelings pretty clear in that letter. I couldn’t handle the thought of calling _him_ only to find out that _he_ was back with Carrie. It was bad enough when I saw a picture of them in a paper. I didn't read the article, but a picture is worth a thousand words and that picture was screaming intimacy and closeness. Something we apparently didn’t have. Or at least not enough to keep _him_ with me. I can’t even describe what it does to me to know that _he_ gave up on us before we even got our chance. 

_Sometimes, only one person is missing, and the whole world seems depopulated. ― Alphonse de Lamartine_

_Fuck, not even in my life and his stupid penchant for quotes has already taken root in my mind._ I don’t know how to go on like this. I’m so tired. 

It’s like the beginning of Stanford all over again. I refuse to discuss _him,_ even with Mike. I don’t want to hear excuses or to look at things from _his_ perspective. I just want to be left alone to wallow in my misery. Someday, maybe I’ll feel strong enough to venture out into the world again, try this thing we call life, but for now, hiding seems like a better option.

Unfortunately, it’s not one Mike seems to agree with. Today, he’s dragged me out of bed, forcing me to partake of nature. Blech, like communing with birds and bugs and trees is going to make this gaping hole in my soul go away. 

I go along because it's easier than listening to him pull the therapist shit out on me. He sometimes forgets that I was a psych major too. I know all the tricks the same as him. I know that he means well, but I’m not sure this is something that can be fixed. I’m not sure I _can_ be fixed anymore. In the past every time I’ve faced the horrors that this world has to offer, I’ve managed to come through, pushing forward. I’m a big believer in the idea of faking it until you make it. This time though it doesn’t seem worth it to push forward. 

“Pixie-chick, move your ass. You can do better than this.” Mike’s aggressively cheerful voice makes me want to hit him. Hard. I glare at him as he jogs backwards in front of me, but his answering smile is unrepentant. A memory of another dark-haired man, jogging the same way, attacks me and I suddenly can’t breath. I feel myself falling, but I can’t figure out how to put my hands out to stop myself. 

Strong, long fingered hands catch me before I hit the ground providing me support. Trapped in the memory, I let myself believe for a second that it’s _him_. Reality crashes into me and I can feel my heart splintering again. A kaleidoscope of glittering pain, shredding every part of me. 

We sink to the forest floor, Mike's arms hold me close, his voice calm in my ear as I try to control my breathing. When I’m no longer taking short shallow breaths, Mike lifts my chin gently, forcing me to look into his sapphire blue eyes. 

“What was it this time?” I glance away from the sadness I see reflected in his eyes. He knows what it was. Maybe not the specifics, but these days there’s only one thing, or rather one person, that can induce this level of panic and despair in me. 

When I first woke up in the hospital, everything terrified me. I had trouble distinguishing reality from my dreams. Every horror I’ve witnessed played out again and again. The shit with Mercer and Piz just the latest in a long line of nightmare fodder. I know something happened in the hospital that convinced _him_ it was better to leave me, but I’m too afraid to ask. I haven’t even spoken _his_ name out loud since Mike gave me _his_ letter. _Hell, I’m working on not saying it even in the privacy of my own mind. I want to forget him._

The silence stretches out between us. Eventually, I pull myself free of his arms, standing and dusting off my leggings. Mike rises to his feet gracefully, his sapphire blue eyes watching me closely. 

“You’re going to have to talk sometime.” His voice is rough, and I know this is hard for him too. He wants to be able to help me and he has, but this is something that can’t be fixed. 

“I’m doing better, I promise.” I tilt my head, smiling sweetly, hoping he’ll let it drop. I’m just not ready.

“You are, you are. Except for this one thing. I can feel you shutting down.” He grasps one of my hands in his larger one, keeping me facing him. “Please, let me in.”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing to see here. All good. Just taking a little longer than normal to bounce back.”

Mike’s lips quirk down in a frown as he gazes down at me. “No, you’ve come too far for this. Just start small. Say his name.”

I gasp at his boldness. We’ve talked for hours about Piz, how his betrayal and death made me feel. He helped me work through my guilt and rage at letting him in my life again, giving false hope that sent him over the edge. A small part of me still cares for Piz, but I think I better understand why _he_ always hated him. 

He was never the nice guy that I thought he was. I only saw what I wanted to see. Mercer was easier in a lot of ways. I never liked him, and he was already a known psycho. But through all of these discussions, Mike hasn’t pushed me to talk about _him_ in all this time. _Why now?_

“You’ve hit a wall.” Mike answers my unspoken question in that uncanny way of his. He really is a talented therapist. “You’ve stalled, not moving forward, and I’m afraid you’re going to start backsliding if you don’t face this part of your trauma. Just say his name. Tell me what you’re feeling about him. Say his name.”

His voice is insistent as he orders me to name him. I blow out an exasperated breath, tugging my hand from his. I spin away, intent on putting distance between us and this conversation. Why can’t he understand I can’t talk about _him?_ If I say it out loud then it becomes true? Why won’t he let me live in my make believe world for a little while longer? A world where the love of my life hasn’t left me for my own good. If I don’t say it, maybe it won’t be real and _he’ll_ come back. Except I know it’s a lie. _He’s_ not coming back, not this time. This was our last chance and _he_ gave up on it. Rage burns through me, an inferno of fury consuming me. I whip back around, fixing Mike with a glare. 

“Logan, Logan, Logan, Logan. There are you fucking happy?” My rage boils over and I’m screaming. Tears streak my face, but I’m not done. “What the fuck does it matter if I say his name? He’s gone. He left me.” For the second time in the span of fifteen minutes, I find myself collapsing, only this time no one catches me and I land in a heap on the ground, curling into a ball. Sobs rip from my throat causing my entire body to shake. This hurts more than I knew any other pain I’ve ever experienced. 

As the tantrum begins to die out, Mike crouches down next to me. 

“Finally.” He sighs heavily. “Now if you’re done bottling this all up, we can talk about what you’re going to do about it.”

From somewhere deep inside, I feel a spark flare to life. It’s been dormant for so long that I almost don’t recognize it. But I do know this fire. It’s what made me stand up after being knocked down, after being raped. It’s what made me listen to Logan on that roof with Cassidy. This is my strength, the fire fueling me. I am not this pathetic creature, lying on the dirty forest floor. I am Veronica Mars and I am not a victim. I am a survivor. Life doesn’t just happen to me, I make things happen. 

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I uncurl my limbs, slowly standing up. Mike smiles brightly as my shoulders straighten and my eyes meet his, the fire sparking in my eyes. 

“I’m going to fight, cause that’s what I do.”

“And what are you planning on fighting Pixie-chick.” His smile gets even bigger. 

“Logan. He’s mine and I’m his and I’ll be damned if I lose another eight years with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to my betas His_Beautiful_Girl and Bugaboo without whom this story would not be possible.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has been reading it and sticking with the story even when it wasn't easy.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - Discussion of abuse, discussion of rape

Logan POV

Twenty-seven days, six hours and ten minutes have passed since I last gazed upon Veronica Mars. Every single second has been excruciating agony. All 2,355,000 seconds. Not one has brought any relief. It has been unrelenting. I keep trying to tell myself that I did the right thing. She couldn’t stand for me to touch her. Every time that I tried, she would panic, the terror in her eyes ripped me to shreds. I can still hear the echoes of her screams. Aaron, Aaron. I didn’t come there to hurt her, but I couldn’t seem to make it stop. 

It was the right thing, even if it feels like I’m going to die. She deserves better than me. She deserves to be happy, to move on, to leave the past in the past. It may kill me, but I owe her that chance. 

Since I got back to Neptune, I’ve been trying to get back into the rhythm of my life, but it feels different now. I thought I was living before, but now I know I was just surviving. 

Walking alone is not difficult but when we have walked a mile worth a thousand years with someone then coming back alone is what is difficult. ― Faraaz Kazi

Still, I try to hide the depression I find myself in. I think I fool most people, but then most people only see what they want to see. I get up, miss Veronica, go to the gym, ache for her, go to work, try to lose myself in the skies, but the blue expanse reminds me of her and doesn’t bring me the joy and peace it once did. Wash, rinse, repeat. My own personal version of Groundhogs Day with no comedic relief. 

I thought I was doing a good job though at keeping it hidden. Granted, I was also hiding from anyone who might see through my fake smiles, my forced laughter. It was working until Dick showed up at my condo in San Diego. He took one look at me and he just knew. 

Flashback

“Dude, where have you been? I tried calling you, but you haven’t answered. Did you have to go on a work trip? What’s up with you and Carrie, I saw her at the 09’er the other night and she was high as a kite and hanging on Sean. I almost kicked his ass, but Carrie said you had split so I guess she’s a free agent now.” Dick Casablancas throws questions out at rapid speed, not pausing for answers, as he storms into my condo, grabbing a bottle of water from my fridge before sitting heavily on my couch. He hasn’t taken a breath or really looked at me since I opened the door. He takes a swig of water and glances up at me. 

I try, I really try, to smile, to be happy to see my closest friend. Even as I force my lips into a semblance of a smile, Dick is shaking his head. He jumps up from the couch, tearing through my condo. It’s not very large, and he’s back in front of me in seconds.

“Where is she? Where is the fucking rich dude kryptonite? What happened?” I hadn’t told Dick I was leaving. I knew he wouldn’t be happy about me getting a chance to see her again, not after all that he had seen me go through after she left. He was there to support me through everything. I figured it was easier to just not say anything and avoid the awkward conversation until there was something to talk about. 

“Nothing happened. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dude.” I shrug off the hand he’s put on my shoulder. I don’t really want to discuss this with him. I don’t want to hear from Dick that I did the right thing. I love him, but he will never understand what she means to me. 

“Nope, not buying it. You can try to front all you want, but I know that face. That’s Ronnie's face. How the fuck did she get to you? Is she why you and Carrie split?” His face is animated as he gestures wildly. “And of course she’s gone, leaving me to pick up the pieces after Hurricane Ronnie.” He mutters this last bit, blowing out an exasperated sigh. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. She’s not the reason Carrie and I split. We split because she cheated on me with Sean and was using but refused to get help. I can’t be around that shit, you know that.” Dick was the one to pick me up off the floor more times than I want to count. When Dick Casablancas thinks you have a problem, probably a good idea to do some soul searching. 

“I thought she was in New York.” My eyes narrow in suspicion. How did he know that? Had he been keeping her from me out of some misplaced sense of loyalty? My fists clench at my sides and Dick takes a step back, throwing up his hands to placate me. “Woah, dude, holster them. I haven’t been in contact with her, but I run into Ghostworld every once in a while and she told me that Ronnie was in law school out east.”

“And you didn’t think I would want to know that?” My voice is rough with rage. 

“You had moved on, I didn’t think you would care.” I quirk an eyebrow up. “Okay, I knew you would care, but what good was it going to do for you to know where she was? You’re better off without her. Look at what you’ve done with your life since you got rid of her.”

I sag, the anger leaving me as rapidly as it came on. Of course he meant well. Dick has always had my back, even when he shouldn’t. I sit down on the couch, sighing heavily. I run a hand through my hair. 

Dick sits down next to me. “What happened?” His voice is quiet. He may not get my relationship with Veronica, but he’s willing to support me whatever I need. 

I run through the story, the drunk phone call, flying out to New York because I thought she was in danger. Piz, Mercer, the confrontation. I choke up when I tell him about Mercer pistol whipping Veronica. 

“She was so still. There was blood everywhere. I didn’t know how much of it was hers. I thought I was going to lose her.” I pull at my sleeves while trying to take a few deep breaths. Dick’s face is pinched with fear.

“Is Ronnie okay?” His voice comes out in a whisper, as if he’s afraid of the answer. I’m reminded that once upon a time, they used to be friends. There’s a lot between them now, things I’m sure I don’t even know about, but when push comes to shove, I know that Dick still cares about her. 

“Physically, yeah. She was in a coma for a few days, but she woke up and the doctor said she’d make a full recovery.” I take a deep breath. “She was having a hard time when I left. Emotionally.” 

Dick’s eyes widen and his jaw drops, he looks shocked. Veronica Mars is the strongest person either of us has ever met. It is surprising how shattered she was. 

“Why are you here, man? It sounds like you were on your way to getting her back. Why the fuck would you leave?” 

“Cause I have a job and I couldn’t extend my leave.” I answer simply. I don’t want to tell him how she was terrified of me, of how the whole thing was my fault and that I had caused her all this pain that was now breaking her. I was the straw that broke the woman I love. It was because of that love that I let her go. 

Dick shakes his head. “No, you’re not telling me everything. I get Ronnie is messed up right now. That was some shit that you both went through. I’m surprised I didn’t find you drowning in alcohol after all of that. But I know you, Dude. No way would you be looking like this if you just had to come home for work. This…” He points at my face derisively. “Is the ‘I’ve lost her’ look. This is the ‘I’m out of her life forever’ look.”

“I was making everything worse. Every time I touched her, she had a panic attack. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t keep hurting her. She thought I was Aaron.” My voice drops to a whisper and I can feel the tears I’ve been holding back stream down my cheeks, but I don’t care. “I had to let her go. For her. She’s been through so much and it was obvious that my being there when she was already struggling was just making it harder for her.”

Dick is quiet for a few minutes. Finally he speaks, and it’s just so him I can’t help but smile for the first time in days. 

“That fucking blows, Dude.”

“Yeah, it does.” I agree quietly. “It certainly does.”

End Flashback

Dick insisted on staying with me for a few days, just to make sure I didn’t have a relapse. It’s weird, but I haven’t had any cravings for drugs or alcohol. I want to feel this pain, even if every second is agony. I don't just want to erase the little bit of time that I had with her. 

My routine helps, keeps me moving, not really giving me a lot of time to wallow. It’s not getting better, but I can breathe through the despair to a degree. And then there’s Carrie. She helps in a weird way. 

Not that we’re back together, no matter what the tabloids seem to think. There’s no way I can even think about someone else right now. Even though I always seem to hurt those I love, I’m not a cruel man and it would be cruel to let another woman think she had a chance with me when I know that I have no heart to give. 

Once Dick was certain I wasn’t going to fall off the wagon and go on a bender, he suggested we go out. It was all part of the fake it until you make it plan of going back to a life I no longer wanted. Not if I couldn’t have her in it. I’d even settle for going back to the radio silence if it meant I had a chance with her in the future. So I agreed and found myself at the 09’er trying to take care of an ex-girlfriend who was high as a kite. 

I should have expected the paps would get photos of me helping her out of the club, taking her home. I was just trying to be a friend, but of course the headlines claimed we had reconciled. When I saw those pictures, my first thought was Veronica. Of course I can’t call her, but I did call Mike and let him know that there was nothing to those pictures. I didn’t think she would see them since Veronica wasn’t the type to read tabloids, but I couldn’t not say something, explain somehow. I couldn’t imagine what that would do to her. 

Other than Dick and trying to get Carrie on the straight and narrow, the only other person I’ve made any effort to speak to is Mike. 

I told myself when I wrote her that letter I was going to stay away. I would not add to her recovery and she would only benefit from me being gone. However, I couldn’t just not know that she was okay. Mike didn’t agree with my decision to leave without even saying goodbye. While he didn’t ask what was in the letter, his glower when I handed it to him spoke volumes. 

But he still agreed to keep in touch and let me know how she was doing. He didn’t tell me much, just that she was still having headaches, but they were going away slowly. She was working through the trauma but was still having nightmares and panic attacks. It hurt my heart to think of her so frail and broken, but Mike would take care of her. If it nearly choked me with jealousy that he was the one with her, I swallowed it down. I did the right thing. I try not to think of her confession that night in Philly that she couldn’t sleep without either drugs or me. The drugs were the safer choice. 

I haven’t asked how she took the letter or even if he gave it to her. I didn’t want to know. It was probably better if she hated me now. It would make it easier for her to move on with her life. 

Mike calls every few days and I find myself looking forward to his calls. Even if we don’t talk about Veronica or the mess that everything is, it’s a connection to her. Besides, I had really come to like Mike in the time that I spent with him and I felt like we were on our way towards becoming real friends. 

While I had some buddies in the military, it had been some time since I had made a genuine friend. Someone I could count on and trust to not just use me, looking for prestige or a cool story about how they met Aaron Echolls son. 

Talking to Mike was easy, and I found myself telling him things I had only ever told Veronica or my therapist. We didn’t talk about my self-loathing, though it was there in between us. He didn’t judge, just listened. It wasn’t one sided though. For as much as I talked to him about my past, he opened up to me too. Sometimes it amazes me how comfortable he is with talking about things I feel like need to be hidden in the dark. 

Tonight is one of our calls, and we’ve been on the phone for an hour already. We’ve cycled through pleasantries, sports, work, and are now discussing food related trauma. For me, it’s pears. 

“She really emulated Joan Crawford from Mommy Dearest. She made liver and onions with brussels sprouts one night. I was a kid, and that shit was disgusting. I tried eating it, but I just couldn’t. She got so pissed and told me I would only eat that until it was all gone. Every night, she made me sit on the floor in the basement next to the cat’s food like I was an animal. She wouldn’t let me get up until it was time for me to go to bed. I was stubborn. I ate that shit for days until it went moldy. Even then she tried to force me to eat it. Finally, my sister, who hated it too but was able to choke it down that first night, took pity on me. When they were out, she took it into the woods near our house and got rid of it. She told them she made me eat it and it was all gone. I was so scared, I threw up. You would have thought that would make that bitch believe my sister was telling the truth, but it didn’t. My sister wasn’t allowed to eat for four days.” Mike’s voice is flat as he tells me about the trauma he and his older sister suffered at the hands of one of his fathers girlfriend’s. 

Even knowing the answer, I can’t help but ask the time-honored question that all abused children want to know the answer to. “Didn’t your father do anything to stop her?” That slim hope that someone would care about us enough to help. A pipe dream for me and one for Mike, as well. 

“No, he just ignored it. Pretended it wasn’t happening. That’s when I began to hate him. I was six.” Mike’s voice is rough with suppressed rage, still angry all these years later at the injustice of it all. 

There's silence, but it's not awkward. It’s the comfortable silence of two people who understand what the other has been through. 

Mike is the first to speak, my mind still trying to pull me out of the past. It’s good to talk about it, to remind myself that it wasn’t okay, that it wasn’t my fault. It just still hurts, and right now it’s hitting a little too close to how I feel about myself right now. 

“Logan?” Mike’s voice is quiet as he tries to get my attention, knowing that sometimes it's hard for me to pull myself back to the present.

“Hmm?” 

“Thanks. I know it’s difficult to listen to this sort of thing, but it helps, you know?” I nod, forgetting that he can’t see me. 

“Yeah, I do.” I run a hand through my hair. I want to ask about Veronica, but I’m afraid suddenly. All this talk about how trauma can impact us in so many ways, I’m just not sure I want to hear that she’s still struggling. 

“She’s doing better.” His voice is gentle, offering the information that he knows I can’t bring myself to ask for. Maybe I should go to her. No, this is the right thing. I will only hurt her. “The headaches are pretty much gone now, and she’s completely off the pain meds. Said she hated them and kept trying to suffer through the pain. It practically took an act of congress to take them when the headaches got too bad.”

That sounds like my Veronica. Too stubborn for her own good. I smile at the thought. The Veronica I left in West Virginia was a shell of her former self. Barely able to stay awake for a few minutes at a time, unable to get herself to the bathroom, terrified constantly. If I touched her in any way, she panicked, backing away. She reminded me of a beaten and caged animal. A feral bobcat whose spirit had been broken. 

“The TBI and PTSD seem to be calming as well. She’s still not sleeping well, but I convinced her to take a sleeping aid. Just some herbal stuff since I know she hates the way the prescription shit makes her feel.” Mike continues as I make small non-committal sounds. If I speak, I’ll beg him to give her a message, tell her I love her, tell her I’m sorry. I can’t do that though. I made this decision for a reason. She deserves better than me and I can’t go back on that. 

“Logan, have you talked to your therapist yet?” This isn’t the first time he’s asked me this. I know he’s worried about me, but I’m not even sure what I’d say. I know I’m not okay, that every second is torture. I wake up in a cold sweat more often than not, dreams of her lifeless body haunting me. 

“I’ve been too busy. I’ll make an appointment when I get a chance.” I try to remember if this is the same excuse I gave the last time he asked me, but I really can’t remember. “Besides, I’m talking to you, aren’t I? Aren’t you licensed?”

Mike chuckles. “Yes, but you’re only talking to me about your past trauma. You can’t expect me to believe that you witnessed all that shit and weren’t affected by it. Fuck, I know you were since you did what you did.” 

We’re getting into dangerous territory here. “It was the right thing. What else was I supposed to do? You saw how she was around me. I was just making it worse.” I can hear the whine in my voice and I clear my throat to try to get past the lump threatening to strangle me as I remember how she was the last time I saw her awake. Eyes wild, hands clawing the sheets as she tried to crawl up the bed, putting as much distance between us as her IV and monitors would allow. 

“Logan.” Mike starts, but I cut him off. “Hey man, it's been good talking to you, but I’ve got to get going. If I don’t get something to eat soon, my stomach is going to eat my spine.”

It’s a lie, food is the least of my concerns these days. I eat just enough so I can keep flying and not raise too many suspicions, but food just serves to remind me of her and all that I’ve lost. 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you soon.” Mike’s sigh is resigned, knowing that he’s not going to get any more out of me tonight. 

I put my phone on the coffee table, staring off into space. A part of me wants to curl up on the couch and just cry, but I force myself to get up and go into the kitchen. I glance in the fridge, hoping to find something there, but I haven’t been to the store in days. Slamming the door a bit harder than necessary, I resign myself to some crappy take out. Maybe I’ll just have something delivered so I don’t have to face anyone else. 

I pull open the drawer where I keep a few menus for restaurants in the area. It’s weird to think that I’ve lived here for a couple of years now, but I haven’t really spent a lot of time here. Between deployments and dating Carrie, I’ve spent most of my nights elsewhere. I’m scheduled to head out on another deployment in a few months, and it can’t get here fast enough. It’ll be good to have something else to focus on other than my misery. 

Suddenly I’m filled with rage. I swing my arm across the island, knocking everything off. A mug crashes to the ground, splintering into a million pieces. I breathe heavily, staring at the mess I’ve just created. The despair I’ve been trying to hold off threatens to overwhelm me and I grab my car keys. Fuck food, a drive will help clear my head. 

I open the door, but am arrested by the sight of a petite blonde standing with a hand raised to knock. I blink a few times, thinking that I’ve finally gone completely crazy. It can’t be. Mike didn’t say. It’s not. 

As I stand there gaping she lowers her hand. I can’t move, can’t speak, I can only let my eyes devour the sight of her. She looks amazing, healthy, but there are dark circles under her eyes that even her makeup can’t fully hide from my intense gaze. Her beautiful face twists in anger and her blue eyes are giving off sparks that threaten to burn me. As I try to remember how to speak, hell how to even breathe, she speaks.

“You’re a fucking coward, Logan Echolls!” Each anger filled word is punctuated by a stabbing finger in my chest, forcing me to move back as she advances forward. Once inside, she slams the door closed behind her with her foot, her eyes never leaving my face. “You don’t get to just leave me some fucking letter. How dare you just decide what is best for me. You don’t want me, then fine, tell me to my face, but don’t you dare think I’m better off without you. I am never better off without you, never.” 

She takes a gasping breath, not having breathed as she got all that out. I’m still trying to catch up, my mind frantically processing her words while screaming she’s here and dancing for joy. 

“I’m here and I will not let some stupid idea that you’re to blame for everything keep us apart. I love you, you fucking idiot.” 

Veronica POV

Deciding to fight for Logan was easier said than done. After my resurrection, for lack of a better term, I was all fired up, ready to fight for what I wanted. But all too soon doubts crept in. By the time Mike and I got back to the cabin, I was a bundle of nerves again, turning everything over in my mind again and again. I wanted to fly out to him immediately, but the pictures of him and Carrie back together gave me pause. I needed him, but I would not be the other woman. If she was who made him happy then I would step aside. I would be miserable, but it was the right thing. It wouldn’t be fair for me to put him in that position. 

Turns out I didn’t have to worry about that. Mike revealed to me he had been talking to Logan all this time. All those private calls in the library that he said were for work, now were viewed in another light. I wanted to press him for details, but I know Mike and he’ll only tell me the bare minimum and nothing else. Even if it’s not protected by doctor-patient confidentiality Mike is not one to break trusts. It’s one of the things I love about him, but right now it’s pissing me off. He knows what Logan is thinking, how he feels. 

Or at least I assumed, but Mike is quick to reassure me, he and Logan had barely spoken about me. 

“We’re friends, Pixie-chick. We talk about stuff that friends talk about.” Mike rolls his eyes at my glare. “He’s a great guy. I enjoy talking to him.”

“I know he’s a great guy. He doesn’t ask about me in all these conversations you’ve been having?” My confidence in this idea of fighting Logan for well, Logan is waning. I’ve found my inner strength again, but it’s not always easy to remember. The thought that Logan isn’t even asking about me is like a jagged wound across my heart. 

If I had known that Mike was talking to Logan before now, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from badgering him for details. I miss him so much. I still don’t know what happened that caused him to decide leaving me was better than at least trying. The first few days in the hospital are still a bit hazy. 

“He doesn’t ask.” Mike confirms, but he smiles softly, lessening the blow. “But I know he wants to. I’ve told him how your recovery is progressing.”

Oh god, has he been telling Logan what a basket case I’ve been? How the smallest things have sent me into complete panic? 

“So you won’t tell me what you talk about.” I huff, angry that he’s been keeping things from me. What else hasn’t he told me? I’ve tried asking what happened those first few days in the hospital before Logan left, but Mike has been very circumspect. 

I tried asking my dad, but he said I was really out of it and all that mattered was me getting better. I think he was relieved that Logan had left, and he had already started talking about how I could postpone my bar exam in New York until I felt better. 

That’s a conversation that I’ll need to have with my dad at some point, but I’m putting it off. One thing at a time. I still plan on taking the bar exam, but I think the state and type of law will be changing. My dad will be disappointed, but I know in the end he’ll come to see that this is the best thing for me. First, though, I need to bring a certain wayward man in line. 

“I won’t tell you.” Mike ducks his head under the weight of my glare. It’s good to know I'm still capable of making a grown man fear me. “I will help you however you need me to. You say you love him and you’re willing to fight for him. What else have you got?”

My shoulders slump. “I don’t know. I want to see him, but he’s with Carrie. I think I missed my window.”

Mike wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him as we sit on the couch. I lean my head onto his chest and he places a kiss on the top of my head. 

“He’s not with Carrie.” Mike drops the words, pulling back quickly to avoid getting head-butted when my head raises at his words. 

“But, the pictures, the articles.” I trail off. Mike chuckles lightly.

“You always believe the tabloids? He was helping someone he cares about. He’s not with her and he doesn’t want to be with her.” 

“Did he tell you that?” 

“Yes. He was very quick to tell me he and Carrie are not back together. He ran into her at some club and she was a mess and her friends were no help so he got her out of there and took her home. He stayed the night, but only to make sure she was okay. That’s the only time he’s called me. Usually I have to call him. I think he’s not sure he’s allowed to be friends with me. I guess he knows you’re not big on sharing.” He smirks as he taps me on my nose. A ghost of a smile graces my lips, but it's gone, replaced by a frown. 

“I want you to be friends.” 

“Well, that’s good, cause I like him. He’s easy to talk to and we understand each other. If he wasn’t so over the moon in love with you, I’d definitely make a play to turn him to my side.” A lascivious smile spreads across his face. 

“He may love me, but he still left me. I just don’t understand.” I’ve read his letter a thousand times. Nothing that happened was his fault. He was a victim, the same as me. I didn’t understand why he thought he was still hurting me. It pissed me off. He made the decision for both of us and didn’t even give me a chance to respond.

Mike lets out an exasperated sigh. “My dear Pixie-chick, you have a degree in psychology, you’ve been working through your own TBI from the incident, yet you haven’t once thought that maybe Logan is going through his own form of PTSD? He loves you, but he couldn’t help you. He stayed by your side for days, waiting for you to wake up. In my professional opinion, Logan is acting irrationally because of his own reaction to what happened.”

My eyes narrow in contemplation, while I think about what Mike said. It makes sense. Logan has always wanted to protect me, even when I didn’t want him to. To see me tied up, bruised and not be able to get to me had to be terrifying for him. He once told me he’s not built to sit on the sidelines. He must have felt powerless. Mike nods as he sees me putting it all together. 

Logan has done everything he can to take control of his life. As a victim of child abuse, he needed that control, to feel like he could protect someone because so much of his life had been out of his control. I know he always felt like he should have done more to protect his mom and even Lilly. It must have killed him to not be able to protect me, bringing out all of his worst fears and his self-loathing. Taken in that light, his letter makes a little more sense. But he wasn’t the one who hurt me. 

“Mike, what happened in the hospital. You said he stayed by my side the entire time I was in the coma. He said he kept hurting me and that’s why he was letting me go. What happened?” I haven’t let Mike read Logan’s letter, but I think it’s time I shared. I pull it out of my pocket, where I keep it close to me at all times. Even when I’m angry, knowing it’s there still calms me. I hand it to Mike, who quirks an eyebrow at me, silently asking if I’m sure. I nod and he unfolds it gently. 

Mike’s eyes widen as he reads the letter, taking on a glassy appearance. He mutters under his breath something that sounds like “fuck, its worse than I thought” but it’s so low I’m not sure. He folds the letter and hands it back to me. 

“When you woke up, you were disoriented. You were having panic attacks and nightmares constantly. Even when you were awake, I’m not sure that you really saw anything other than what was in your head. Logan seemed to trigger it. If he touched you, you started shaking. It was so bad, your dad started suggesting that maybe Logan should leave, but Logan wanted to stay as long as he could to make sure you were okay. Before he left, though.” Mike pauses, contemplating how much to reveal, but I gesture impatiently for him to continue. 

“Before he wrote that letter, he tried to talk to you. He wanted you to know that he had to leave, but that he would be back as soon as he could. You had just woken up from one of your nightmares. He tried to caress your head, but you started screaming. I think you were still trapped in your nightmare, but he took it really hard.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Did I say anything else?” There’s a memory tickling the edges of my mind, but I can’t grasp it completely. 

“You screamed “don’t touch me Aaron.” Logan went completely white. I thought he was going to pass out, but he just backed away from you and ran from the room. I got you calmed down, and you went back to sleep. I found him in the hospital garden. He gave me the letter and asked me to give it to you when you were feeling better. Then he left.”

Everything clicks into place. I vaguely remember the nightmares. All the traumas of the past and the present converging into one horror show over and over again. Aaron featured in a lot of them. But I would never mistake Logan for Aaron, he’s nothing like the man who sired him. Tears spill down my cheek as I think about how that must have hurt Logan. Thinking that he was causing me more fear. I know he’s never fully forgiven himself for what he did after Lilly died. This must have brought everything up for him too. 

It’s taken me a long time to understand, but other than that year after Lilly died, Logan has never tried to hurt me. That thing with Madison wasn’t about me, it was about his own issues and poor decisions when he was drunk and high. He wasn’t subconsciously thinking that this will be a way to get back at Veronica. He was thinking he was lonely and depressed, and this was a way to make himself feel a little better. I doubt he even knew it was Madison until after. I made it about me because of how it made me feel. I never even bothered to look at things from his perspective. 

Wasn’t that why I took that class at Stanford? To understand Logan better and here I am thinking he just doesn’t love me as much as he’s always claimed. I’m still thinking the one who stays is the hero and the one who leaves is the villain, but that makes me the villain' cause I left first. 

Logan, for all his therapy and new mature life, is still damaged just like me. And that means he’s prone to not thinking things through or only seeing it in a way that serves his self-view. I’ve done nothing to make him believe I love him. Granted, he’s had his faults too, but I gave him no reason that he wouldn’t be part of my nightmares, that I wouldn’t secretly believe he was like Aaron. 

I pull away from Mike, needing to move while I think through all of this. I needed to know what Logan was thinking, but a phone call isn’t going to do it. I had rejected the idea of going out to him because I thought he was with Carrie, but if I’m honest, I’m more afraid of being rejected. It’s why I never told him I loved him all those years ago. I was so afraid that he would leave me that I pushed him away. 

Mike watches me pace, arms slung back on the couch as he slouches. His pose reminds me of Logan, that boneless grace that they are both capable of. It’s amazing how two men with such deep-seated fears and issues manage to look perfectly calm. I stop pacing. 

“So what’s the verdict, Pixie-chick? What are you going to do?”

I tilt my head and give him my best smile. I’m a student and much as I hate what I’m about to say, I’m going to need his help. “Could you book me a ticket to California?”

He rubs his hands together in glee. “Absolutely. One-way I’m assuming?”

“Well, it is where he lives.”

Mike jumps up and grabs my hand, pulling me after him into the library to make my travel arrangements. I balk at the price of a one-way ticket from Dulles to San Diego, especially when Mike insists on first class, but he waves away my concerns. 

“I would pay anything to see you two get a happy ending. Gives me hope for the rest of us misanthropes. Besides, we want you rested when you get there so you don’t scare him off.” He smirks and I slap him lightly on the shoulder. 

He’s not wrong though. I haven’t been sleeping, and the circles under my eyes are not my most attractive feature. 

Logan POV

She’s here. Veronica is here, and she’s mad at me. God, she’s gorgeous when she’s mad, her eyes sparking with fire, dark as midnight, lucious petite body vibrating with the emotion running through her. She’s actually yelling at me quite forcefully. My mind is having a hard time catching up beyond the fact that she’s here until she says she loves me. I barely register the ‘fucking idiot’ part, focusing entirely on the fact that she just told me she loves me. 

My face splits into a grin and she glares at me. Her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Anger radiates from her petite body. My smile gets bigger as she scowls. I can’t help it, she’s here, and she wants me. 

Convinced this is all a dream, I pinch myself. Fuck, it hurts. This is real! Veronica is really standing in front of me in my condo. Apparently waiting for me to speak if the look on her face is any indication. Words, words, what do you say to the love of your life when you’ve told her you can’t be with each other because you’re just going to hurt her?

“Well, are you going to just stand there like a grinning fool? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Veronica huffs in exasperation. 

My smile flees, my lips quirking down in a frown as I remember why I left, why we can’t be together. She’s flown all this way, is that a bag with her, only for me to hurt her again. 

“Veronica.” I start, but my throat is suddenly a desert and the words come out thinly. I clear my throat, trying again. “Veronica, what are you doing here?” 

Even if I’m going to have to send her away, I get a minute to talk to her, don’t I?

She looks incredulous. “Didn’t I just tell you why I was here? I’m here for you, you big dummy.” She puts her hands on her hips, a classic Veronica ready to battle stance. 

Who is she planning on fighting? Oh yeah, me, cause I’m the big dummy. I’m really struggling to think right now. A part of me wants to repeat what I told her in the letter, but the rest of me just wants to take her into my arms and hold her forever. 

My indecision and fear must show on my face because she softens slightly. 

“Logan?” She says my name quietly, those bright blue eyes glassy. Please don’t cry, Veronica. 

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to catch up. You flew out here.” She nods. “For me?” Again she nods. “You’re mad at me.” She smiles, but nods again. “You love me.” She ducks her head shyly but still nods. 

“I love you, Logan.” She whispers the words and my heart skips a beat. “I know what happened in the hospital, what I said, but it wasn’t you. I swear I’ve never thought you were anything like Aaron. I was just so fucked up and I couldn’t tell reality from my nightmares. It wasn’t you.”

Her words come out rushed and remind me of what Mike had said as well. I want to believe her, but I’ve hurt her so many times, how can she not on some level be afraid of me?

“I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change anything. What I wrote to you…” I trail off. That letter nearly ripped my heart out. I never wanted to leave her, not if there was a chance that I could be who she wanted, who she loved. I’m so confused. 

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Logan. I do and I’m standing here telling you that you are what’s best for me. You are who I need. I’m not me without you.” She tilts her head, a small smile gracing those luscious lips of hers. I gaze intensely at her lips, watching as her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip. 

I shake my head, trying to remember all the reasons I’m not good enough for her. 

“I’m not…” She cuts me off with a finger to my lips. 

“No. I don’t want to hear it. You are the best man I know. You are kind, caring, smart, funny, and amazingly sexy. You are not that messed up teenager anymore. What happened then, it has no bearing on right now and our future.”

Our future. Veronica Mars wants a future with me. And I’m standing here like a fucking idiot, just like she said, trying to talk her out of it. I should know by now that no one tells Veronica what she wants or what to do. If she says she needs me, if she truly wants to be with me, then I’m hers. Always. 

Her finger is still against my lips, stalling anything I might say. Slowly, I reach up and take her hand, interlacing our fingers. She sighs, gazing down at our joined hands. 

“Veronica.” My voice is an awe-filled whisper. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m done trying to sabotage my happiness. I always wanted her to trust me, and now I need to repay the favor and trust that she knows what she’s doing. 

She looks up at me, the smile on her face lighting her eyes as she stares into mine. I try to convey everything I’m feeling as I stare into those beautiful blue eyes. Words aren’t going to cut it. Communication is key, but right now, I need to show her. I feel like I’ve been starving for eight years and the only thing that will satisfy me is Veronica. 

Using our joined hands, I tug her closer, wrapping her up in my arms. I lower my head as she tilts hers up, anticipating what’s about to happen. There’s no fear in her eyes as my lips slowly graze hers. That electric feeling bolts through me.

“I love you.” I whisper the words against her lips before deepening the kiss. I lick her lips, seeking entrance and she opens with a sigh, angling her body closer to mine. As our tongues touch, her pulling on the tip of mine doing that swirly thing that drives me crazy, my arms tighten pulling her flush against my body. 

We only stop when air becomes a problem. I rest my forehead on hers, panting as I try for some control. Veronica loves me, but what happens next needs to be discussed. My entire body is screaming for her, telling me to keep going, but I need to be sure. 

I pull away slightly, letting my hands trail down her arms, grasping her hands in mine. Her eyes crinkle in confusion, her mouth forming a delicious pout when I stop our impromptu make out. It takes all my self-control not to capture that protruding lower lip between my teeth. But I know that if I don’t try to have this conversation now, I’m going to get swept up in the passion that’s always between us and we’ll be up against a wall in seconds. As much as I want her, I need her to listen to me and then I need her to say the words. 

We’ve been standing in my foyer all this time, never having made it beyond the front door. Keeping her hands in mine, I slowly walk backwards towards the living room. Reaching the couch, I unlace our fingers, placing my hands on her shoulders and gently urging her to sit. 

I sit next to her, our legs touching. I can’t bear to not touch her right now. I’m still partially afraid that this is all a dream and I’m going to wake up any second alone in my bed. She sits on my couch, a vision in a red silky tank top and a short black skirt. I regret the dark wash jeans I put on after work, wanting to feel her skin against mine while we sit. Given the trouble I'm already having forming coherent thoughts, it's probably for the best that we still have this layer between us. Still, Logan? 

“Logan, I.” I cut her off this time, shaking my head. 

“No, you already had your turn. Now I get to talk.” She reaches for my hand, pulling it into her lap and toying with my fingers. “I need you to know what you’re getting before you decide this is what you truly want. If it is, I’m all in.”

She nods, smiling coyly as she looks up at me. My heart stutters and I lean forward, wanting to kiss her again. I stop myself with a shake of my head. 

“Not yet.” I mutter to myself under my breath, but she hears me and a frown forms on that beautiful face. “You know I’m in the Navy, but do you really know what that means?”

Her lips purse as she thinks about it. She shakes her head, gesturing for me to continue. 

“I’m stationed here in San Diego for now, but I ship out on deployment in a few months. I’ll be back here on shore duty for eighteen months afterwards, but then they can send me anywhere, including another deployment. You’re just starting your professional career, I can’t ask you to give that up for me. Your life is in New York, I can’t just pick up and come out there, at least not for a few more years and only if I leave the Navy.” I frown slightly at the thought. I’d give up anything to be with her, but the Navy is a huge part of who I am. I love it and before she came back into my life, I just assumed that I would stay until they told me I couldn't fly anymore. I hadn’t really thought beyond that since I had a few years of flying left. 

“Logan, nothing you say is going to change my mind. I want you. My life isn’t in New York, not anymore. My life is with you. Nothing else matters to me.” Her eyes are wide as she implores me to believe her.

“You say that now, but I know you. You have dreams and it would kill me if I destroyed those dreams.” 

“Yes, I have dreams, but you are a part of those. I already cancelled my bar exam in New York. I’m moving back whether or not you and I are together. That life I was living, it was a lie, I told myself it was fine, but I was miserable in New York, with the path I was on. I was only going through the motions. Everything I was doing was what I thought I should be doing, not what I truly wanted. I want to take the bar and practice law, but could you really see me as some corporate lawyer, defending the rich.” 

Her nose scrunches in distaste and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. 

“No, that doesn’t really seem like something you would enjoy.” Defending those who don’t have anyone else fits more with the woman I know. 

“You keep trying to decide what’s best for me. Why don’t you let me decide what I want and need?” She pulls her hand free of mine, placing both on the sides of my face, gazing into my eyes. “I’m moving back. I’m tired of the cold. I am taking the bar exam here in California. I am going to find an apartment and hopefully work as a prosecutor or public defender. These are all things I can do in other places if you need to move for work. I get that it won’t be easy, but no one ever wrote songs about the ones that come easy.”

I smile shyly at the reference to my once grand declaration. I was such a drama queen back then. I should have just told her I loved her and couldn't live without her. 

“Are you done telling me why this won’t work?” She quirks an eyebrow at me, her hands trailing down from my face to my shoulders. 

I nod, mesmerized by her eyes, the feeling of her small hands on my shoulders as they caress them. I feel like I should say more, try to make her understand, but the blood is rapidly draining from my head as she touches me. 

“Do you want to be with me?” Her voice is soft, a hint of uncertainty coloring it. 

“More than anything.” I breathe the words. 

“Good, then are we done with the talking portion of this evening?” She licks her lips, her fingers digging slightly into my shoulders causing me to shudder slightly. I nod dumbly. The blood pooled in my cock. “Good, because last time I had you alone like this, you ran out on me and left me high and dry.”

“I definitely should make that up to you.” I waggle my eyebrows at her, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her into my lap. She wiggles against my erection and I groan. 

“Yes, you should.” The last word is spoken against my mouth as she kisses me. The passion and lust I was trying to hold off, ignite and I’m consumed by the fire. I pull her closer, breaking off from her mouth to trail down her neck, finding that spot that makes her moan. She pulls back and I quirk an eyebrow at her as she stands.

“I thought the talking portion was over.” I pant out the words, my breathing heavy. She straddles my lap, capturing my lips again, grinding into my cock. I moan low, my hands grasping her waist. 

There’s more we should talk about, but right now, she’s in my arms and she loves me. I’d be a fucking idiot, just like she said, to let this opportunity pass me by again. 

Her hands snake through my hair, her nails scraping on the back of my neck as my mouth trails kisses down her neck. I find that spot where her pulse beats wildly and bite gently, smoothing my tongue over it to soothe the sting. My hands slide up her sides, taking her shirt with it so I can reach the impossibly soft skin below. She leans back, allowing me to drag her shirt over her head, before she leans back into me.

She drops her mouth to my ear, gently tracing the shell with the tip of her tongue. A shiver runs through me while my thumbs sweep over her nipples. She trembles at the touch, pushing her breasts further into my hands, her tongue still dancing over my ear. Despite the passion between us, I want to go slow, take my time relearning every inch of her.

Veronica has other ideas. Her breathing is heavy in my ear as she pants, her hips twisting, trying to gain friction where she sits in my lap. She nips the lower lobe of my ear, while her hands trail down my chest. When her nails scrape over my nipples, my hips buck involuntarily. 

“I love you.” The words are barely a whisper against my ear, her warm breath caressing me. 

Three little words are all it takes for my plan for a slow seduction to go right out the window. I am overwhelmed with the need to consummate this reunion. I need to be in her. My heart is beating a samba in my chest. I have enough presence of mind to decide on a location change. I refuse to make love to her for the first time in almost nine years on my couch. 

Putting my hands back on her waist, I stand up, trusting her to wrap her arms and legs around me and she doesn’t disappoint. She clings to me like a koala, and I continue kissing her like I’m starving, spinning us in the direction of my bedroom. Her legs tighten, bringing her core in alignment with my raging hard on, and she grinds against me. 

I press her into a wall, pinning her with my hips, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist. My hands reach behind her to undo her bra clasp. I slide the straps down her arms. She twists in my arms, helping me to remove the barrier between us. Freed from her bra, her hands reach down to tug on my shirt, pulling it up and I lean back, letting her drag it over my head. 

I lower my head to capture her right nipple between my teeth, tugging gently. She gasps and her hands clasp the sides of my head, holding me tight to her. As if there’s anywhere I’d go right now. Being here with her is all I’ve ever wanted. I switch my attention to her other nipple, reveling in the little moans she makes as she continues to grind against me.

It’s too much, it’s nearly not enough. I was aiming for the bedroom, but I don’t know that I can make it past this wall without sinking deep inside of her. I lean back to look at her, her face is flushed, her eyes are dark with lust, half closed in arousal. As I stare, she bites her lower lip, her hands dancing down my torso, tracing the indentations of my muscles. Veronica’s skirt has ridden up, scrunched at her waist, revealing a scrap of satin. Is that a thong? My hands slide down her sides, smoothing down over her ass, and bare skin meets my questing hands. I groan, leaning forward again to kiss her.

“I want you, now.” The words stutter out of me in between kisses, panting heavily. I’m going crazy, so close, yet not close enough. Her head falls back as I smooth my hands over her ass, sliding my fingers under the thin fabric, keeping me away from her wet pussy. Glancing up into her eyes, I silently seek approval to rip the offending material from her. There’s no way I want to let her go long enough to pull them off. My cock is straining against my zipper, hard to the point of pain, begging to be released, to go home. 

She lifts her head, blue eyes bore into mine. She shakes her head no, denying me, and my lips turn down in a frown. I’m vibrating with need. She kisses me, taking the sting out of her denial. It’s not a denial of me, just the saving of a pair of panties. My fingers flex, still itching to rip it anyway. 

“Bedroom.” She gasps as my fingers inch under the material, finding her dripping wet for me. It’s a simple request and where I was headed before I got caught up in her, but it takes me a second to get my legs to move in my lust-addled state. 

Her tiny hands are already reaching for my fly as I stumble towards the bedroom. She manages to undo one button as I maneuver us into the room, her fingers snake below the waistband grazing my aching cock. Not wanting this to be over too soon, I untangle her from me and toss her gently onto my bed, following quickly to kiss every exposed piece of skin. 

I kiss down her stomach, pausing to undo the zipper of her skirt. I sit up, staring into her eyes as I pull the skirt down her impossibly long legs. She watches me hungrily. Throwing the skirt away from the bed, I kiss my way back up, sliding my fingers under the sides of her thong, slowly pulling it down. She lifts her hips and bends her knees, helping me to remove it. 

As I throw it over my shoulder, I take in the picture of her before me. She lays naked, legs splayed open, exposing her beautiful pussy for me, her chest heaving as she pants. Wetness pools between her legs, glistening in the low light of the bedroom. 

I stand, undoing the rest of my fly and pulling down my pants and boxers. Veronica watches, a small smile on her face as her gaze roams over my body. One hand toys with her nipples as I free my cock. She licks her lips, sitting up on her knees and leaning towards me as I stand beside the bed. Her small hand wraps around my length, sweeping a thumb over the tip, spreading the pre-cum that has gathered there. I arch into her touch, moaning lightly.

I’m reminded again of a mongoose caught in a snake's gaze as she leans forward, her tongue darting out to lick me. As her mouth closes around me, enveloping me in white hot heat, I groan. 

Her eyes stay locked on mine as she slowly sucks me in, her cheeks hollowing out. This is new, and it nearly undoes me. Not the blowjob, she’s given me those before, but the eye contact. Nineteen-year-old Veronica never looked me in the eye when she did this. I can feel my balls start to tighten and I pull away from her. She pouts beautifully, rocking back on her heels.

“Can’t. Won’t last. Need you.” I struggle to speak as I tamp down the orgasm that threatens to end this too soon. She lays back down, displaying herself for me. 

She is stunning, more so for the confidence she shows now.

She’s always been amazing, the best I’ve ever had. Not that she would ever believe me, but there was a nervousness to her before. She enjoyed sex, but she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin, wasn’t confident in her ability to please me. She was shy, always wanting to cover up. She never would just lay there naked, letting me get my fill of her. Now she bends her legs, opening herself wider to me, beckoning me in silent invitation. 

I almost come just looking at her, brazen in her perusal of me, one hand toying with her nipple, the other sliding through her clipped curls, swirling the moisture there. My mouth goes dry at the sight. 

The only thing that stops me is the thought that this confidence came from somewhere, someone else. It’s been almost nine years to the day since I last had her in my bed. I know that there have been others for her, just like there have been others for me. I just didn’t want to think about who it was that helped her gain this newfound confidence. It’s equal parts sexy as hell and jealousy-inducing. 

Her eyes narrow as she watches me. “Logan?” Her voice is calm, but I can see a hint of panic in her eyes, as if she’s afraid she’s crossed some line. I quickly join her on the bed, running my hand up her leg as I lay next to her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I whisper reverently as my lips follow the line my hand took. Her thighs quiver while I kiss up one side and down the other, purposely teasing her. She mewls, her hands grasping the sheets beside her when I blow a hot breath across her clit. The smell of her arousal is making me a little crazy, filling my senses and I feel heady, almost drunk from it. I glance up at her, her eyes avidly watching me as I spread her open with my thumbs. My tongue laps up her slit, swirling a little around her clit. I’m rewarded with a low growl as her thighs tighten around my head. 

I repeat the process, slowly working her up. After my third pass, I suck gently on her clit as I slide a finger inside her. She clenches around me and I groan. Adding a second finger, I flick my tongue against her clit, tapping out a rhythm that has her tugging at my hair, pulling me closer, her hips moving in time to my fingers. 

“Oh fuck, oh God, Logan.” I can feel her getting close and I curve my fingers, looking for that little rough patch of skin. Finding it, I rub in time to the staccato pulse of my tongue on her clit. Her thighs clench tighter around my head, nearly cutting off my hearing, but her growling scream when she comes is loud enough to wake the dead. 

I slowly pump my fingers, drawing out her orgasm, letting her come down gently. Her breathing is heavy as I lift my head, a smug smirk on my face, my fingers still ringing out the last bit of pleasure for her. She pulls back from me, my fingers sliding out. She sits up, her hands pushing on my shoulders, silently telling me to lie on my back. 

Being on top was always her favorite position because it allowed her to be in control. I understood that this was something that she needed and was more than willing to give it to her. Especially since it allowed me to watch her unravel above me without her being shy. She always closed her eyes, though. In my more insecure moments I worried that she did this because it wasn’t me she was thinking about while she rode me. Now her eyes don’t waver from my face.

Veronica straddles my hips, her moist entrance teasing my cock. I try to lie still, but I want to surge up into her. 

“Protection?” She pants, still heavily aroused despite just having an orgasm. I reach towards the nightstand, but she leans over and opens it before I can. She pulls out a strip of condoms from the box I keep. She rips one off the strip, dropping the others by my head. She uses her teeth to rip open the package, the movement causing her to slide over my cock and I groan as I’m soaked in her wetness. I wrap my hands around her waist, my fingers flexing, trying to keep myself under control. 

As much as I want to slide into her, I know it’s too much to ask right now, to be allowed in free of any barriers. When we were in college, she let me since she was on birth control and I nearly came the first time immediately at the level of trust she placed in me. She was and is the only woman I’ve ever been bareback with. The feeling was exquisite and I hope to get back to it someday. Right now, though, I just want her, anyway she lets me. I’m nearly dizzy with need.

She leans back, her tiny hand wrapping around my cock, tightening slightly as she slides the condom on me. Positioning my cock at her entrance, she slowly slides down, a look of rapture on her face. Her eyes are open as she adjusts to me. She rolls her hips and my hands on her waist grip tighter. 

Veronica continues to stare into my eyes as she reaches for my hands, pulling them away from her waist, interlacing our fingers. She gently lifts herself off me, using only her thighs for leverage. She hovers, keeping my tip inside her, her gaze avid as she watches me struggle to hold still, allowing her to be in charge. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, my muscles clenching and twitching to keep from surging up into her. 

“Please.” I whimper, willing to beg, but she continues to hold herself up. Just when my control is breaking and I’m about to thrust up into her, she slams down on me, twisting as she descends. Stars flash before my eyes. 

“Fuck, Veronica, oh fuck.” 

She raises up again, teasing me to my breaking point before she slams down again, twisting the other way this time. 

I can feel my orgasm building again, my breaths coming in heavy pants and I try to hold off, wanting to see her come before I do. I want to feel her coming all over my cock. Just one more time, that’s all I can handle this round. I’m too aroused, too desperate for her. Veronica lifts herself up again and I clench my muscles again, preparing for the teasing and twist, but instead she moves steadily up and down. I catch her rhythm, my hips rising to meet her. She lets go of my hands to lean back, her hands on my thighs, changing the angle. 

I press my thumb on her clit as she continues to ride me. She moves in a steady rhythm, but adds that twist again, pushing me to the limit of my control and I press harder, trying to get her off before I explode. One of her hands slides up my thighs, cupping my balls gently. 

“Veronica.” I stutter and she smiles a wickedly sexy smile. Her hand tightens slightly around my balls, pulling gently. My hips lose their rhythm. She continues adding the twist as her hand slides down further. 

I can feel her tightening just as her finger reaches my perineum, pressing hard. I come violently, my hips bucking up into her, flashes of light dancing before my eyes. My orgasm runs in waves through my entire body, again and again. I barely choke out her name while darkness crowds my vision. I continue coming, her own orgasm sending shocks of pleasure through me. 

It’s long minutes before my brain works again. Veronica is lying on her side next to me, her fingers tracing patterns over my stomach. A self-satisfied smile graces her kiss-swollen lips. 

“Welcome back.” Her voice is teasing, but her eyes narrow in concern. 

I am still having trouble figuring out how to move again. My body feels completely boneless. My breathing is still harsh as I swallow audibly. 

She continues to trace circles on my stomach as my breathing calms, small aftershocks still causing my body to shudder. 

“What the fuck did you do to me? I’ve never come like that before.” My voice is hoarse, as if I was yelling for hours. I gaze at her with eyes wide with awe. Her smile widens, and she shakes her head. 

Feeling more in control of my limbs now, I pull her to lie against me, arms wrapped tightly around her slender body, her head on my chest. I kiss the top of her head and stroke her back, still unsure what she did. I’ve slept with a lot of women over the years, but nothing comes close to what I just experienced. Not even the best time with Veronica before comes close. 

I know I should lay here enjoying the feel of her in my arms, but I can’t help the words that escape me. “Where did you learn that?”

I really don’t want to hear about Veronica’s sexapades with other men. Murder is still illegal and the jealousy that roars through me at the thought of another man touching her demands I hunt them all down. It’s pure masochism that prompted me to ask. 

Veronica leans up, propping her head on her pillow to look at me. She smiles shyly before leaning forward and kissing me gently. 

I savor the kiss for long seconds, already feeling my arousal returning. Jesus, I just came for what seemed like years, and I still want more of her. I pull back, letting my gaze roam her face, marveling at the miracle that she’s here with me.

It doesn’t matter where she learned it, she said she’s all in, that she wants me. So I’m the only one who will be enjoying these new skills. I’d be a hypocrite to make her feel bad for her newfound confidence in bed simply because she’s had the opportunity to practice with others. 

Still propped on her side, she runs a finger over my forehead, which has wrinkled. 

“Mike.” Her voice is quiet as she smooths her finger down the side of my face. 

“Huh?” I let my head fall back, staring at the ceiling. I must have heard her wrong. Or she’s answering some other question. I go back over our conversation in the foyer. But nothing was said about her supposedly gay best friend. Maybe he’s not gay, maybe he’s bi. Memories of their banter comes back to me and I feel slightly sick. I never asked if they had slept together. I just assumed that since he was gay, they hadn’t been together that way. 

Veronica places her hand on the side of my face, turning it to face her. “Logan, Mike and I never slept together.” Her voice is calm, soothing, but there’s a hint of something underneath that I can’t quite place. Exasperation maybe? She scowls at me. 

My stomach knots as anxiety rushes through me. I’ve barely gotten her back and I’m already fucking everything up. 

“Veronica, I didn’t mean.” She places a finger over my lips, silencing me. 

“No, you asked me a question and I’m going to answer without you letting yourself get all tied up in self-doubt and loathing. You don’t have to apologize anymore, Logan. We can’t ignore the past and there will be many conversations about it, I’m sure, but it doesn't have to dictate our relationship now or our future.”

Her eyebrow quirks, silently asking me if I agree. I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Unlearning certain behaviors is going to take some time and work. I’m still conditioned to be afraid that the wrong word will send her running from me. 

I nod to let her know I understand what she’s saying. “I want our future.” My words are honest, more open than I’ve ever been with her. She smiles and kisses me quickly before settling down next to me. Her hand finds mine, and she links our fingers. 

“I want that too. More than anything.” The words are whispers and I feel a warmth flood through me. 

“So Mike?” I prompt her to continue what she was going to tell me before I had my mini freak-out. 

“Ahh yes, Mike. There are benefits to having a gay best friend with absolutely no boundaries.” She chuckles. “He knows everything, including what happened that night at Shelly’s party and how intimidated I was by your experience.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she shushes me. “I know, you didn’t think it was an issue and I know what you told me back then. I just couldn’t feel it, couldn’t let myself believe it. You always had women hanging all over you. Even Lilly kept coming back to you. You made me feel things that no one else ever came close to. You definitely knew what you were talking about when you said ‘if the cuddling was the best part, he didn’t do it right.’” She laughs breathily and I feel my face flush at what a jackass I was back then. 

Her lips quirk down in a slight frown as she continues. “I couldn’t understand how you could find me superior to any of the women you had been with. Especially since I was so unsure about sex. I wanted to be a willing participant to make you feel what you made me feel, but I didn’t know what to do and I was afraid to mess it up.”

“None of that mattered to me. You were always the best.” I rush to reassure her, but she squeezes my hand, gently telling me to be quiet.

“It mattered to me. I was trying so hard to be normal, to pretend that what happened didn’t affect me in any way.” She shakes her head, making a disgusted snort. “Fuck, I even went back to Duncan, slept with him, attempting to re-write what happened that night.”

Duncan. My worst nightmare, that he will return and she’ll go running back to him. She always seemed to have a blind spot when it came to Prince Duncan. I never understood how she could consider it consensual when she was drugged beyond the ability to give consent. I never said anything because I was so desperate to keep him as my friend and assuage my guilt for my part in what happened to her. I was willing to accept her revisionist version of what happened between them, but it never sat right with me. I flinch, shudders running through me at the thought. Veronica turns to look at me, her free hand raising to caress my chest, calming me. 

“Mike helped me face reality when it came to Duncan.” Her voice is rough, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

“You don’t have to tell me.” She shakes her head.

“No, I want to. You asked, and I want to be completely honest with you. I don’t want there to be doubts and fears between us. I love you.”

The words still blow me away; how she can say them with such ease now. I guess I have quite a few things to thank Mike for. 

“I love you, so much.” I breathe the words against her lips, kissing her gently, pouring everything I feel for her into it. She pulls back too soon, rolling over again to stare at the ceiling. 

“I’m sorry, I just can’t do that and talk about this at the same time.” I squeeze her hand, letting her know that I understand. “Duncan remembered that night. He might have been drugged and his inhibitions lowered, but he remembered. I don’t. There’s no way I could have consented, and I wouldn’t have consented if I had the chance. He had hurt me so much with the way he broke up with me. No amount of hormones were going to overcome that. We weren’t even close to having sex when he dumped me, we had barely gotten to second base.”

I knew that. Duncan was fairly private and the fact that I was dating his sister had limited that kind of guy talk between us, but what he had told me didn’t sound like they were moving very fast. I guess I figured that was because Veronica didn’t feel ready, but now I think it was him holding them back. 

Veronica is a very sensual woman, responsive to the slightest touch. That summer we dated before senior year, I was the one who kept us from having sex, not her. I didn’t want her to feel pressured or to feel like she had to prove something to me or to herself. I didn’t want to be used.

“Then he slept with me when I had no memory, wasn’t even conscious. When I finally slept with him again, I always felt like I was doing something wrong. If I moaned, he got a weird look in his eyes, like he was surprised that I was making any noise.” She shudders and I pull her closer.

Duncan is lucky that I don’t know where he is. If I did, I’d track him down and rip him to pieces for what he did to her. I remember when she and I got back together after senior year. For a while, she seemed to be holding back on me. She was so quiet compared to the summer before when she was so expressive, making the sexiest little noises. It didn’t last long, and I didn’t say anything. Now I wish I had. 

“Everything, it just created a perfect storm of insecurities in me. Nothing you said or did was going to change that back then. I just couldn’t believe you. I thought if you saw me, really saw me, you’d see a damaged girl and you’d leave me like everyone else. So I pushed you away before you could see me.”

I pull her closer, wrapping her in my arms. “I always saw you. I just didn’t know what I could say or not say.”

“I know. I was a mess.” She sighs heavily. “Mike helped me see all of that. He helped me understand that I wasn’t at fault for everything. And he gave me pointers. Who better to know what a man would like than another man?”

Her face flushes pink as she mentions the pointers. I laugh gently, imagining Mike explaining in graphic detail what to do to own a man. 

She slaps my shoulder, admonishing me. “It’s not funny.” She tries to keep a straight face, but soon is cracking up next to me.

It feels good to be here with her, sharing like this. I have missed her so much.

“So you’ve perfected your bedroom skills, which by the way, were amazing before, with Mike’s pointers.” I tamp down the jealousy that threatens at the thought of how she perfected those skills. I don’t enjoy imagining the lucky bastards she used as guinea pigs. And I realize that I’m being a jealous and unreasonable ass. Especially considering my own history.

“Logan.” She turns to look me in the eyes, “I’ve never used what I did to you at the end with anyone else. I’m not saying I haven’t slept with anyone else in nine years, because I have and so have you. Mike offered to tell me how to please a man for years, but I preferred to learn some things on my own. So part of that was me, but part of it was Mike’s expertise in practice.”

“That’s weirdly romantic.” It is. Veronica isn’t one for sharing her emotions, but it speaks volumes that she saved this for me. “Anytime you want to practice some of his advice, I’m more than happy to be experimented on.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Although I think giving you the elusive male multiple orgasm is going to be hard to top.”

“That’s okay, I don’t think I would survive if it was like that every time.” Her leg slides up mine and I can feel myself getting hard again. 

“So now what?” She smiles coyly. 

“We spend the rest of the night naked in my bed?” My voice is hopeful, but the words are interrupted by a distinct growl from her stomach. “After we feed Bert.”

“I didn’t really eat on the plane.” My eyes widen in concern. She’s been here at least an hour now, and that time definitely included some strenuous activity. I need to feed her pronto.

I get up, throwing on some shorts before remembering that I have nothing in the house to make her. “Is takeout okay?” 

“Sure. I’m good with whatever.” I nod, padding out to the kitchen to find my phone and the takeout menus. I place an order with a halfway decent Italian place, ordering lasagna for Veronica and manicotti for me. It’s going to take another thirty minutes to get here so I scrounge through my pantry, coming up with some slightly stale chips that Dick must have left here. I fill a glass of water as well. 

When I return to the bedroom, Veronica is typing on her phone. She looks up as I place the chips next to her, the water on the nightstand within easy reach and flop back down on the bed. She puts her phone down on my nightstand and curls up on me, reaching into the chip bag immediately.

“You were gone awhile.” Her voice is a purr, and it takes another rumble from Bert for me to remember she needs food before we do anything else. 

“I had to find the menus.” It’s true. I don’t mention that I had to clean up the mess I made earlier as well since I don’t want her cutting her feet on the broken glass that was still littering the kitchen floor. 

She eats a few more chips, moaning slightly with each bite. Fuck, where is that food? I need to distract myself before I move us on to round two. 

“What were you doing when I came in?” I try to keep my tone casual. 

“Oh, I was just letting Mike know that I got here and things were going well.” She glances up at me, her eyes suddenly uncertain. “It is going well, right?”

“Umm, yeah. You came here, yelled at me, told me you loved me and wanted to be with me. Then you fucked me brainless. I’d call that going well.” I smile brightly at her and she returns my smile with a shy one of her own. 

The doorbell rings and I head out to grab the food, detouring to the kitchen to set up a tray. I’m loath to see her leave my bed. She brightens as she sees the Italian food and makes gimme hands at the plate of lasagna. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, this isn’t Mama Leone’s.” I warn her seriously. She rolls her eyes. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, Bert is so hungry at this point, your pillows are looking good.”

We settle down to eat, though I spend most of my time watching Veronica. Her little moans of appreciation are making me want to hear them in a different context. Veronica licks her fork when she’s finished getting the last bit of sauce and I groan. 

“So what’s your schedule like? I mean, I just showed up here out of the blue and I’m sure you have things you need to do.” She frowns suddenly and I hold my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You were leaving when I got here. Am I keeping you from something?”

I exhale slowly. “No, I was just heading out for a drive to clear my head. I, I haven’t been doing well.” 

“What’s wrong?” Her hands caress my face as her eyes soften with concern. 

“What’s wrong? Hmmm, I told the love of my life that I couldn’t be with her and it was driving me insane trying to find a way to live an empty existence again after being so close to her.” Her eyes widen in surprise. Does she not know how I feel about her. I need to make it clear. “Veronica, I love you. These past weeks, I thought I was doing the right thing, letting you move on, not hurting you anymore, but it was killing me.”

“But you’re happy I’m here now, right? You don’t still think it would be better if we were apart?” Her voice is small and she stares intensely at me. I shake my head vehemently. 

“No, absolutely not. I wanted to let you go for your sake, but honestly I’m a selfish bastard and I don’t know how much longer I could have gone without going to you. I was even wishing for some crazy drama to give me an excuse to call you.” She laughs. 

“I wish you had called me, but I’m glad there’s not anymore crazy drama. Now we can just focus on us.”

“I like the sound of that.” My face breaks into a broad grin and Veronica leans forward to kiss me. 

She breaks the kiss, sitting back, propped up on my pillows, the sheet wrapped around her; she holds out a hand forestalling my motion to follow her lips. 

“Your schedule?” She prompts me.

“Oh yeah. I have to work tomorrow, but then I’m off for the weekend. I didn’t have any plans other than moping and pining for you, so I’m totally at your beck and call except for a few hours tomorrow. What were your plans?” She said she’s moving back, but I don’t know if she means immediately or in a few months. 

“Well, I should really see my dad, give him the news that I’m home for good in person.” She sighs heavily. “I also need to see about finding an apartment and a job while I study for the bar exam. Mike is having my Le Baron shipped out here, so I’m all set for a car in a few days.” She ticks things off her mental list. 

“Why don’t you just stay here with me?” Her eyes widen in shock and I begin to backpedal. “I mean if you want. Or you can find your own place, it’s up to you.”

Stupid Logan, it’s too soon to be asking her to move in with you.

“I think we should take things slow. We’re still getting to know each other again.” Her voice is timid as if she’s afraid I’ll be mad at her or think she’s rejecting me. I grasp her hands in mine.

“It’s fine. I get it. It’s too fast.” 

“A little, but ask me again in a few months.” She smiles at me, squeezing my hands tightly. 

Now it’s my turn to be shocked. I expected it would take years before she was ready to take that step with me. My elation rapidly deflates as I remember that in a few months I’m going to be out at sea for six months. 

“I’m deploying in a few months. I’ll be gone for six months” I try to hide the despair I feel at the thought of being apart from her again, but my voice is thin and she’s not fooled. 

“You told me earlier and I’m still here. We’ll figure it out.” Her voice takes on a husky timber. “I guess we need to make the most of the time we have together. I’ll need lots of memories to get me through 180 days without you.”

I’m more than happy to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said this in nearly every chapter, but it still holds true. This was only my 3rd story and the first I had beta support on. I got stuck several times and if not for HBG and Bugaboo's support and advice, I may have ended this with, "well things happened, they sucked, but you know, LoVe." Instead you get this final chapter minus the epilogue.


	23. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

18 Months Later

_**Logan POV** _

The airport is busy, but I’ve found a small space to call my own while I wait anxiously outside the doors for baggage claim. I shift my weight from one foot to another, my excitement overriding my military bearing, just this once. 

The doors slide open, and people stream out. That large clump of people that tells you a plane just landed. I sift through the faces, looking for one in particular. When I see it, my face breaks into a broad grin and I step forward, waving like an idiot trying to get their attention. When that doesn’t work, I try shouting over the din of a hundred passengers racing to get out of the airport during its busiest time.

“Mike. Mike.” The tall, dark-haired man finally sees me and his answering grin is at least as big as mine. He rushes forward and grabs me in a bear hug, which I return wholeheartedly. 

“Logan, it's so good to see you.” He steps back, glancing around me, searching. “Where’s Pixie-chick?”

His use of her cute nickname never fails to amuse me. I tried using it once, but the glare I received made me rethink it. It's okay though, I enjoy coming up with other names for her to rile her with. Of course, the one most in rotation is still Bobcat. 

“She had to finish up some work, but she’ll meet us at home.” _Home, our home, where we live together._ The happiness that runs through me at the thought never gets old. Most mornings, I’m still amazed that this is my life. 

“God, you two are nauseating. You’ve been together almost two years, but you’re still sickeningly sweet.” Mike makes a fake gagging noise and I laugh. 

We head to the baggage carousel to get his luggage, catching each other up on what’s been going on in our lives since we last saw each other. As we make our way out to the short-term parking lot where my BMW convertible is parked, Mike gives me an appraising look.

“You look good, happy.”

I duck my head, my face turning pink with shame. I am happy, but I still feel like it came at someone else’s expense. 

“I really am.” My voice comes out in an awed whisper, still surprised that I have everything I want. 

Right before I was set to deploy the first time, Carrie Bishop was found dead in her bathtub. At first, the Neptune police, headed by the stupider Lamb brother, was going to rule her death a suicide. Veronica, who was working at the DA’s office, helpfully pointed out that it was very difficult to electrocute yourself to death and anyway, why would Carrie go to all that trouble when she had access to pills, cocaine, and heroin. 

Not wanting to be shown up by the new hotshot assistant DA, Lamb actually did his job for a change and launched a murder investigation with the help of Mars Investigation. A conspiracy surrounding the death of Carrie’s best friend, Susan Knight, was the real culprit. Carrie’s own friends, Gina Goodman, Luke Halderman, and Stu Cobbler hatched a plan to silence Carrie when it seemed like she was going to crack and spill their secrets. 

It was a tragic end to a tragic woman, and it hit me hard. If not for Veronica, Mike, and Dick, I’m not sure I would have survived the crushing guilt I felt. I couldn’t sleep for weeks and the naval doctors nearly grounded me. All my old fears that I was the catalyst for the deaths of the women who loved me reared their ugly head. 

Leaving for deployment two weeks after it happened didn’t give Veronica and I a lot of time to work through things together. I started pushing her away, picking fights and cancelling our Skype dates. She was relentless though, and she refused to let me go. Even though there were times when I was just being an ass, she still stuck by me, steadfast in her love for me.

I know it wasn’t easy for her. It brought up so many of her own insecurities, and I couldn’t really explain that I wasn’t mourning a lost love so much as feeling guilt for what happened to Carrie. I’m not even sure I knew the difference at first since Carrie’s death brought up so many issues for me. 

We made it through the six months, but barely. By the time I got home, Veronica was running out of patience and had one foot out the door. I couldn’t really blame her after I put her through the ringer, constantly testing the limits of her love for me. 

Mike intervened before I could destroy the one thing I wanted more than anything in my life. He came out to stay with me for a few weeks, forcing me to talk and see my therapist. He helped Veronica with her fears. 

But it was Dick, in his typical Dick fashion, who really got the point home for me. Jokingly, he told me that if Carrie and I were involved at the time of her death, Lamb would have pegged me for the murder. Then Veronica would have had to come out here to save my ass, and we would have ended up together, anyway. 

Dick’s belief that Veronica and I were inevitable helped me to see the truth. I felt guilty, but I wasn’t responsible for Carrie. I didn’t cause the circumstances that led to her death anymore than I was responsible for my mom’s suicide or Lilly’s death. Each one made a decision that set them on a path. 

Veronica and I had chosen a different path. And it had made all the difference. I still sometimes regret the 8 plus years we lost, but I know we needed that time to grow so we could be together. 

I could never regret being with her. She is the other half of my soul, my partner, my lover, and hopefully soon, my wife. 

Now we were doing something we had never had a chance to do before, spend Christmas together. Veronica insisted on hosting the festivities at our new home on the beach. She had just finished decorating it and was eager to show it off. I think she was going a bit overboard because this was also going to be the first time she really introduced Mike to the rest of her close friends. 

She tried to hide it, but I know that it made her nervous to share him with everyone. Hell, she sometimes didn’t enjoy sharing him with me, but Mike and I had become fast friends. Veronica also worried about her dad’s reaction.

While we’ve been together for the past eighteen months, Veronica has been hesitant to put her father and I into the same room. It’s not like it once was where she made me feel like she was embarrassed of me. Instead, she worries that her father’s disdain for me will make me run from her. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her that this will never happen, I’m never leaving, she still worries. 

I take it as a good sign that she’s moving this forward, planning a holiday celebration. Our entire house is decked in Christmas decorations. Veronica labeled me her elf and while my natural tendency towards Christmas since my mom died is to be a grinch, her enthusiasm is infectious. I have a feeling my mom might be smiling down enjoying watching Veronica pull back into the enjoyment of Christmas.

With Mike here, I feel like my side is balanced too. I don't just have Dick to rely on if Keith, Wallace, and Mac are less than friendly. The addition was yet another cause for joy for me. Of course, Wallace and Mac have been nothing but cordial to me since Veronica and I got back together. 

Wallace, especially, has been working through guilt for pushing Veronica back towards Piz. It put a damper on their relationship, but they’re slowly working their way back together. 

I pull up to our new house, that huge smile overtaking my face again. Mike whistles under his breath while he takes in all the decorations. 

“She really went crazy this year, didn’t she?” He chuckles and I join in. 

“You know Veronica, she never does something half-assed. She wanted everything to be perfect.” 

“I’m sure that’s been fun for you.” 

“Well, she can be very persuasive.” I smirk as I think of her methods of persuasion last night when she asked me to get out of work early and pick Mike up from the airport. I shift slightly in my seat as Mike lets out a loud laugh. 

“You’re welcome, man. If I can’t use my vast knowledge on you, at least I can rest assured it’s still being put to good use.” My face flames, but I’m still a grinning idiot. 

“Oh, I’d say the student has surpassed the teacher. I literally passed out from what she did to me last week.” It’s true, my girl is a perfectionist. I am a more than willing guinea pig.

“Interesting, I’ll have to ask her for some pointers. Anything that can put that stupid grin on your face is definitely worth knowing.” 

I grab the bags, motioning for Mike to precede me into the house. We haven’t seen him in several months, and I know Veronica is going to want some alone time with her BFF. 

Mike stops at the door, turning back to me suddenly. 

“Did you get it?”

“Picked it up from the jewellers before I got you. Didn’t want it in the house any longer than necessary in case she found it.” Mike is the only person I’ve told that I’m proposing to Veronica on Christmas Eve.

It’s the one night we’ve set aside for ourselves. Mike has plans to meet up with a friend of his and everyone else isn’t coming until Christmas day. Veronica has already planned a special meal for two, followed by watching cheesy Christmas movies and opening our gifts for each other. 

“Nervous?” 

“Hell yes, but I’m ready, we’re ready.” My eyes crinkle in sincerity as I meet his gaze. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us. You’re like our fairy godfather.”

Mike ducks his head, slightly embarrassed. When he looks back at me, his mouth opens to say something, but then he shakes his head.

“What?” I tilt my head questioningly. 

“Ummm. I should have told you both this a long time ago.” He shrugs, digging his hands in his pockets. I wait for him to continue. “I didn’t drunk dial you.”

My mouth drops open at his admission. 

“Veronica was making a mistake with Piz and I could tell from the pictures of you and Carrie that you were holding onto something as well. I didn’t know if you were still in love with her, but I knew something wasn’t right there. I saw my opportunity when she went to bed and left her phone out. I just wanted to bring you together.” 

My mouth hangs open as I process this. I shut it and swallow audibly. Mike stares at his feet awaiting my verdict. 

“Will you be my best man?” 

He glances up sharply, seeing the smile on my face. “I think you’ll have to fight Pixie-chick on that one, but there’s no other couple I’d rather stand next to.”

The door swings open, cutting off any further conversation as a petite blonde elf stands there with her hands on her hips, glaring at us both. 

“Are you planning on standing out here all day?” Her voice belies the glare on her beautiful face. 

“No, ma’am.” Mike intones in a parody of a military officer. I roll my eyes at him while Veronica playfully shoves his shoulder.

“Don’t call me ma’am.” Her laughter rings out as Mike picks her up off her feet, pulling her into a tight hug. 

The rest of the night, we spend catching up, laughing, and being together. 

Christmas Eve Day, Veronica puts Mike and I to work, helping put the finishing touches around the house blatantly using our height to her advantage. 

Finally, Mike heads out to meet his friend, telling us not to wait up for him. He winks at me as he walks out the door. 

Veronica wraps her arms around my waist, leaning her head against my back. 

“Alone at last.” Her words are husky and it’s almost enough to make me push aside our plans for the evening and spend it worshipping her body. Almost. _There’s time for that after._

Enjoying our solitude, we eat dinner, working together to wash the dishes before cuddling on the couch to watch the cheesy Christmas movies Veronica picked. A few weeks ago, she schooled me in the must watch for the season and while I rolled my eyes and couldn’t resist some commentary on her choices; I am just happy to share it all with her. 

After “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, the original with Boris Karloff, of course, “Christmas Vacation” and “Elf”, Veronica declares it is time to open presents. My heart races as I follow her to the tree. 

Veronica snatches up two gifts, putting one in my hand, while keeping the other for herself. She watched expectantly as I turned the gift from her over in my hands. 

“Open it.” She smiles brightly, her eyes twinkling in the dimmed lights of the Christmas tree. 

Giving her a quick kiss, I slowly unwrap the gift. Veronica bounces excitedly next to me. Inside is a bear wearing an orange shirt that says “Yes”. I stare at it dumbly for a few seconds before glancing at her sharply.

Her smile is mischievous as she starts to unwrap her own gift. She flips the lid of the robin’s egg blue box and stares down at the princess cut solitaire ring nestled inside. Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears as she pulls the ring out. 

I hold my bear up, silently asking if this is her answer. She nods her head, tears starting to escape. I remove the ring and slide it on her finger, before bringing her hand to my mouth. I kiss her knuckles gently. 

Veronica reaches up, wiping away the tears that I wasn’t aware I’m shedding. We laugh at our sappiness before coming together in a passionate kiss. I twirl us around and around, finally landing heavily on the couch. Veronica nestles into my lap, holding up her hand to admire the ring.

No words have been spoken, but the next chapter of our lives together has just been agreed to. 

Veronica leans her head back on my shoulder and speaks quietly.

“You didn’t think you could actually hide it from me?”

“Well, a guy can hope, but I know who I’m marrying.” I smooth her hair from her face, gazing into her eyes. “Why the bear?”

I know why in part. Veronica is sentimental, and the bear is something from a part of our past when things were good, when we had hope for the future. It doesn’t matter what happened after, it still is a part of our story.

“I didn’t want you to be nervous waiting for my answer. We’ve been through enough without adding to it with doubts or worries.” She smiles at me shyly. 

“Thank you. Best gift I’ve ever gotten.” 

“I love you, Logan. I’m done running. I just want you.” Our lips are a hair's breadth apart now. 

“I love you, Veronica. Always.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking through on this one. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Thank you to His_Beautiful_Girl and Bugaboo for your beta support.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to my betas, HisBeautifulGirl and Bugaboo for all their help getting this story ready. I really couldn't have done it without their input and help.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Covers (yellowcrayonwillow fics)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27829402) by [VeronicaMarsFanArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaMarsFanArt/pseuds/VeronicaMarsFanArt)




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